


Florescence

by quartzguts



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki Disease, Lack of Communication, M/M, Major Illness, Soulmates, regis and noctis have a very complicated and sad relationship, sort of ot5 with chocobros/ardyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23105023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartzguts/pseuds/quartzguts
Summary: Noctis meets his soulmate. It's a wonderful, scary night, after which his dad makes it clear he can never see the man again.A year later, he starts coughing up flowers.
Relationships: Ardyn Izunia/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia, Noctis Lucis Caelum & Regis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 59
Kudos: 267





	1. Seedling

**Author's Note:**

> warning: extreme self-indulgence ahead lol

There are many mysterious things in Eos; vast, unknowable things. Daemons lurk in the shadows, gods slumber beneath the seas, and a stone of untamable power is literally locked in the basement of Noct’s childhood home. He’s used to odd happenings, so when something strange happens his first thought is usually _huh, that’s weird,_ and his second is _well, better call Ignis._

This, however, is so strange he doesn’t think either of those things. Instead, the thought that goes through his mind as he vomits flowers up into the toilet is _please tell me I didn’t eat plants last night when Gladio and I got trashed._

For most people, eating flowers is likely not something they’d do while drunk, but when Gladio and alcohol are involved anything is possible. Noct almost chokes on another petal as it comes up. He spits it out furiously. There are currently three blossoms floating in the toilet bowl, all crumpled and covered in saliva. They’re attached to short green stems, and a few have long, pointed leaves decorating them. The flowers are beautiful, Noct supposes, white and feathery, but he’d appreciate them more if he hadn't woken up with them in the back of his mouth mere moments ago. Luckily flowers don’t taste as gross as actual vomit; all that’s left is the burning sensation, and that can be quickly cured with a glass of juice.

It’s still uncomfortable enough that he stares down at the toilet bowl in disdain. He’d been having a wonderful dream before he’d woken up - a dream about dancing and wine and bright amber eyes - and he knows he won’t be able to get back to it now.

Noct flushes the flowers down the toilet. He doesn’t particularly want to look at them and be reminded of this the next time he comes in to take a piss. As he wanders into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of orange juice, he surveys his apartment. It’s more or less clean. Ignis should be pleased when he comes by. Or not. At the very least, there’s no trash on the floor, and the couch cushions are near the couch. Not on it, but still. He settles down to scroll through his news feed while he waits.

When Ignis walks in thirty minutes later he huffs at the state of things, but doesn’t say anything. Noct immediately dumps his phone on the table, eager to share his new favorite weird story. It’s been two years since he graduated high school and his life has become considerably more boring, so he’s glad whenever he has something interesting to talk about. “You'll never guess what happened this morning, Ignis.”

Ignis doesn’t miss a beat, unloading the contents of his messenger bag onto the kitchen table. “You set the kitchen on fire again.”

“Do you see any scorch marks?”

“You set _yourself_ on fire. Again.”

“Okay, that was one time and it was the hairdryer’s fault,” Noct grumbles. “No. I threw up a flower.”

That makes Ignis’s head snap up. Noct snorts at the shocked expression on his face. “You _what_?”

“I said, I threw up a flower. Three, actually. Guess I must’ve eaten them last night.”

Ignis shakes his head in disgust. “You and Gladio should be banned from drinking together.”

Noct grins. “I thought you’d be proud of me for eating a plant.”

“I’d prefer it if you ate edible plants, Highness.” Ignis sits down and opens his laptop. Noct sighs, slumping over in his chair. It’s time for another exciting Sunday morning spent preparing what he’s going to say in Council tomorrow. He has to present a small budget plan for the Museum of Royal History’s new restoration program. Part of it includes an old painting he’s always liked, of a king whose name has been forgotten, so Noct has actually been motivated to do the project right. That doesn’t mean he’s excited about talking numbers so early in the day.

Ignis hands over the extra notes he’d promised - most of it pertains to a public survey, showing general favor for the project among the populace - and Noct shuffles it into the huge pile of papers they’ve been amassing over the past month. At this point they’ve been in the planning phase long enough Noct wishes he could just pay for the whole program with his personal account. That money is for emergencies, though, not frivolous spending. It's not for charity either, no matter how much he wishes it was.

Noct takes the papers, a set of blue sticky notes, and starts to mark them. He has to find everything super important that has to be verbally said in Council, and then distill all of it into a short speech he’ll make. As this is the first project he’s ever presented to them on his own, it’s practically tradition that they’ll approve of the budget, but he still wants to do a good job. His dad will be there, after all, and the Council is sure to ask him some customary questions. Noct wants to show his dad he can play the politics game when he needs to. He's not the same nervous kid he was in high school.

Ignis taps away on his laptop. The rapid fire key abuse is good background noise, and Noct makes decent time on his reading and rereading. There’s a few bursts of typing, followed by a hum that indicates Ignis has found something interesting. Noct glances up. He’s staring at his laptop with furrowed brows, his hand covering his mouth in silent pondering.

“Find something for the project, Iggy?” he asks. The intensity in Ignis’s eyes is making him nervous.

It doesn't fade at Noctis’s words. “I thought I might look up the circumstances under which a person might vomit - or rather, cough up - flowers.”

“Don't believe me, huh? Knew I shouldn't have flushed them.” Noct smiles nervously. He’s not sure _why_ he’s nervous, really. At worst, Ignis has discovered that he’s accidentally consumed pesticide and needs some sort of antidote.

“Noctis, have you ever heard of Hanahaki Disease?”

Noct blinks. What does that have to do with the flowers? “Uh, no? Is that some kind of infestation?”

“In a way,” Ignis says. His eyes dart over his laptop screen, reading at a rapid pace. “It is less of a disease and more of a status effect, although it’s not caused by any beast or daemon. The afflicted’s own feelings are what give rise to the condition.”

Noct gulps heavily. There’s an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. “Iggy, just say what you want. Don’t draw it out like this.”

Ignis’s eyes snap to him. He looks worried - more so than Noct has seen him in a long time. “The cause is unrequited feelings of love.”

Noct pauses. Stares. Then laughs.

“Okay, you got me,” Noct sputters. “Good one, Iggy.”

Ignis frowns. “I’m not joking.”

“Sure you aren't.”

“Noct -”

“No, listen for a sec.” Noct clears his throat. The nerves are still there, but they’ve lessened in light of Ignis’s con. “I'm not in love with anyone. If I was, you’d be the first to know, promise.”

“I doubt that,” Ignis says. He snaps his laptop shut and slides it back into his bag. “Still, I would prefer it if we took a visit to the Crown Medical Center.”

Noct’s smile falters. “C’mon, Ignis, that's not -”

“Necessary? I find it is.” He pats Noct's shoulder. “Up. Or must I call an ambulance?”

Noct grimaces. He _hates_ hospitals, not least of all because his dad insists on being updated every time Noct is admitted for anything. He doesn’t think his dad understands that the rule just keeps Noct from going in when he’s sick. The last thing he ever wants is to bother his dad. “Fine.”

As they walk down to the parking garage, Noct looks up _Hanahaki Disease_ on his phone. It is, apparently, an actual affliction that Ignis did not come up with to spook him, unless part of his prank consisted of rapidly writing articles about it for several major news and medical sites (Ignis _had_ edited an Eospedia article once when Noct was in high school, just to teach him not to use it as a source; it was a dark day). There’s even a page dedicated to it on the Lucian Disease Center website.

_A rare affliction,_ it reads, _caused by intense, unreturned infatuation with another. The infection grows in the lungs and consists of a root system, stems, leaves, and most prominently, flower blooms. Symptoms often include feelings of unease, depression, and longing, combined with coughing up flowers and other plant parts. Over the course of several months, the plant will grow until it becomes difficult for the patient to breathe. Death is unavoidable if the disease is not treated._

Noct laughs nervously. He’s suddenly not sure if he’d vomited that morning, or hacked something out of his lungs. He was just hungover enough to have potentially mistaken the latter for the former. “Hey, Iggy, I’m seriously not in love with anybody. I don’t have Hanahaki or whatever.”

“Yes, well,” Ignis says as he opens the door to his car. “I’d like to make sure.”

Noct grumbles and slides into the passenger seat. Ignis calls the medical center once they turn onto the road, heading towards the Citadel, and tells them the prince is coming in and needs to be seen immediately. Noct buries his face in his hands. He’s making it sound like Noct is dying or something; his dad is _definitely_ going to be contacted, and when it turns out Noct doesn’t have some obscure flower disease and is just a stupid drunk who picks flowers off of plants at Bahamart and inhales them, he’s going to be so annoyed. He can feel any chance he had at impressing his dad tomorrow slipping through his fingers.

Noct stares at his artificially bright phone screen, his eyes burning. A bit of text near the bottom of the article catches his eye. _It is sometimes possible for a person to contract Hanahaki despite claiming not to have romantic feelings for another. In these cases, the disease is likely related to latent attraction to a soulmate the patient has met but not pursued a relationship with._

Noct freezes. The source of his earlier dream surfaces; it happened just over a year ago, when he’d gone with his dad to meet with some Niflheimr diplomats in Altissia. There had been a man there, who Noct didn’t know and wasn’t introduced to: violet hair, striking eyes, long legs and strong arms hidden by layers of ridiculous costume-like clothing. Noct had stared all evening, then bit his lip and accepted a dance from the stranger later that night. They hadn’t said a word, preferring to simply twirl around each other for three minutes as the music swelled. Noct had caught sight of the red string connecting their ring fingers as they danced, flickering in and out of existence, excited at having brought together two soulmates.

After the dance, his dad took him by the arm and told him, as if he was a child, never to talk to that man again. Noct had listened. For the rest of the night, he refused to even look at him. Then he’d gone home, refused to research his soulmate’s name, and had never seen him again except in dreams.

He scratches at the place on his finger he knows the string is attached to. As always, it doesn’t appear. Noct closes the tab, locks his phone, puts his head in his hands and sighs.

“Noct?” Ignis says. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, fine,” Noct murmurs. “Just peachy.”

-=*=-

The nurse is still scribbling on a clipboard when she walks in. Noct glances up. Ignis is sitting with him in the room, having decided it was necessary to be there to force Noct to actually tell the doctor what happened. After awkwardly explaining the flower debacle, a few x-rays had been taken, and they’d been told to wait for the doctor’s verdict. They watch in silence as the nurse clears her throat and gives Noct a short bow.

“We’ve finished reviewing the x-ray results,” she says. “Your Highness, I regret to inform you that you have Hanahaki Disease.”

Ignis sucks in a short breath. “How advanced is it?”

“We estimate the plant has only been growing for about a month,” the nurse says soothingly. She’s calm and to the point. Noct wishes his doctors after the Marilith had had her bedside manner. “Urgent action isn’t yet required, but without treatment it will continue to grow until the disease becomes debilitating.”

“I see.” Ignis adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose, even though they were fine to begin with. “Well then.”

The nurse seems to sense the tension in the room. “I’ll go and wait for His Majesty to arrive,” she says, and leaves them alone.

Noct stares at his hands. A swirl of conflicting emotions collect in his stomach; confusion, anxiety, hesitation. Excitement. He thinks about the man’s hands, rough and larger than his own, gently guiding him around the dance floor, a comfortable weight resting on the small of his back. Ignis continues staring, waiting for Noct to speak. Well, tough shit. He’s not saying anything.

He’d always expected that if he ever got to meet his soulmate, he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. That’s what made it so easy to push the man from his conscious mind. Noct’s life isn’t his own - his _body_ isn’t his own. If anything, his father telling him unequivocally that he was not to talk to the roguishly handsome man he’d danced with was a relief. Noct hates the future’s uncertainties - if the peace will last, if Tenebrae will be granted independence, what his reign will bring. When his dad will die. Finding out once and for all that he does have a soulmate and can’t be with him was a huge weight off his chest.

Besides that, Noct has a feeling if he _had_ talked to him, even once, he would’ve fallen in love. And that would’ve made things into an even bigger mess.

It seems that his stupid brain somehow latched onto the guy anyway, and now there are flowers growing in the flesh of his lungs, threatening to suffocate him with longing. Noct kicks his feet against the side of the patient bed and wrings his hands miserably. He can’t feel the flowers yet, but he will soon.

“Noct,” Ignis starts, but Noct gives him a glare that quickly shuts him up. Ignis purses his lips and shoots him a look that says _when His Majesty gets here, you’ll have to talk._

Says him. Noct can keep secrets from his dad. He hadn’t told him about his soulmate back then, and he certainly isn’t going to say anything now.

They sit in silence for a few minutes longer before the door opens again. Noct practically winces when he sees his dad’s face. He looks over-stressed, the premature aging showing in the lines around his eyes. Noct feels his conviction waver.

“Noctis. How are you feeling?” Regis asks. Noct lets his dad fuss over him, brushing bangs out of his face and wiping imaginary tears off his cheeks.

“I feel fine, Dad,” Noct says. It’s not exactly a lie. Physically, he feels perfectly fine. Emotionally, he’s not really sure.

“You won’t feel fine for long.” His dad leans back against the bed next to Noct. Ignis shuffles, getting ready to leave, but Regis puts up a hand. “Please stay. You deserve to hear this as much as I do. More, perhaps.”

Ignis bows. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

For a horrible moment, Noct thinks he’s going to have to tell them, but the crisis is averted when his dad looks back to the nurse. Noct sighs in relief. He’s conflicted, sure, but still leaning heavily towards his initial stance of _never gonna tell_.

The nurse clears her throat and gives her clipboard a quick once over. “Normally the doctor would be giving this consultation, but I’m the only medical professional on duty right now who’s treated Hanahaki Disease, so I’ll be giving you the run-down. Is that alright?”

“Yes, of course,” his dad says. “Your expertise is most appreciated.”

The nurse blushes slightly. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Now,” she glances at Noctis and gives him an encouraging smile, and he just wants to die right then and there, “as you probably know, Hanahaki is caused by powerful, unanswered feelings of love and affection. The feelings manifest in a growth of flowers within the patient’s lungs. The plant that grows is typically the favorite flower of the object of the patient’s affections.”

“Noctis, next time you cough up a flower, please keep it so I can have a look at it,” Regis says. Noctis grimaces.

“A good idea, Your Majesty. The plant will continue to grow until the disease is resolved. Complete lack of treatment will invariably lead to death via suffocation as the patient loses the ability to breath. Luckily, we’ve caught this early and there are multiple treatment options available, so I doubt it’ll come to that.”

_Multiple treatment options,_ Noct’s brain echoes. Multiple. As in, could include one that doesn’t involve him spilling the beans about his probably-dangerous Niflheimr soulmate. “And my options are, exactly?”

“Firstly, you can confess your feelings, but this will only cause the plant to die if those feelings are returned. In the case of rejection, the plant’s growth will hasten.” She smiles at him again, and this time it’s sympathetic. Noct shrinks in his seat. “Secondly, we have a surgical option, where we remove the plant by its roots. Right now, that’s likely viable, although we’ll need to do a few more x-rays before we move forward.”

“It's entirely up to Noctis, but I'd prefer he attempt a confession before resorting to surgery,” his dad says. Noct blushes so hard he feels like his face is going to melt. This is so much worse than reviewing reports and writing speeches. “Noct?”

“I’d rather not,” he says evasively.

“If you want to go for surgery, that’s fine, but I have to warn you; removing the plant will not only get rid of your romantic feelings, it will also erase the memories you have of that person. It’s also for the best you don’t try and get to know them again, lest the disease come back.”

“Oh.” Noct’s brows furrow. That night has been a source of pleasant dreams for the past year - the lights of the ballroom, the feel of his soulmate’s hand in his own, his seductive smile - and even now Noct is loath to forget it. It was the only time he’d been genuinely _wanted_ by somebody who wasn’t interested in his title. Put into words it sounds stupid, but the memory is precious to him. “I don’t like the sound of that, either.”

Ignis clears his throat. “Noct, perhaps you and His Majesty should talk in private?” he says.

“An excellent idea,” Regis says before Noct can respond.

Just like that, both Ignis and the nurse leave. Noct is left awkwardly perched on the observation bed while his dad stands next to him. Suddenly, Noct realizes he has no idea how to talk about this - or anything, really - openly with his father. He jumps down and slumps in one of the hard plastic waiting chairs sitting along the wall of the room. His dad sits next to him and waits.

Noct doesn’t know what to do. The only way to deal with the mess of flowers growing in his lungs is to either forget all about that night or… or confess. To a man he doesn’t even know. To a man he doesn’t even have a name for.

Noct’s stomach tightens, butterflies erupting in it. This all feels so stupid. Even if his soulmate is down to _be with him_ , despite him having never tried to contact Noct in the past year, the Council will shit bricks. Noct’s soulmate is a man, at least ten years his senior, and likely a high ranking Niflheimr officer; hardly desirable traits in a consort. This whole situation is such a mess Noct doesn’t know what to do about it.

“Noctis,” his dad says, settling a hand on Noct’s knee. “It’s alright. Whoever it is, I won’t get angry with you.”

Realistically, Noct knows he won’t be. His dad is rarely ever mad with him, and he definitely won’t get upset over Noct having met his soulmate. He’ll probably be mad about the situation though, and to Noct’s stupid brain that’s practically the same thing.

“Um.”

“Noctis, please. This could kill you. If you’re truly that nervous, at least tell me why. I might be able to offer some advice.”

Noct suddenly remembers a half-asleep conversation he’d once had with his dad when he was a child. The question is coming out before he can stop it. “You and Mom were soulmates, right?”

Regis squeezes his knee. “Yes. We were lucky enough to be of similar social standing, which is why we were permitted to marry.” Noct knows that. He can’t help but be jealous. “Is that what this is about? You’ve met your soulmate?”

“...just once.” Noct sighs, resigning himself. A little spark of self hatred alights in the back of his mind. He can’t stand this wishy-washiness of his; he’d made a decision merely twenty minutes ago, and now he’s going back on it just because his dad is asking him to. “Remember that peace summit with Niflheim a year ago? The one with the ball?”

“That summit gave birth to the treaty that ended the war. Of course I remember.” Regis smiles impassively. “You met there, then?”

Instead of answering his question directly, Noct stares at his lap and tries not to combust. “Remember the guy I danced with?”

Regis freezes. Noct doesn’t need to look directly at him to read the tension that’s in his shoulders. “Son. Are you sure he’s the one? Are you _certain_?”

“Yeah,” Noct mutters. “Who, uh, is he, again? I didn’t catch his name.”

Regis sighs, dropping his head into his free hand. “Noctis, that was Imperial Chancellor Izunia, the current ruler of Niflheim.”

-=*=-

“How the fuck did I not recognize him.” Noct bites his lip as he paces rapidly around the room. “He’s the _Imperial Chancellor_! Why did no one tell me he was the Imperial Chancellor?”

“I assumed you know who he was,” Ignis says. He’s doing an admirable job of keeping his calm despite his prince’s complete panic, and Noct is ineffably grateful for it. “His Majesty probably thought it would be years until you saw him again, given that he prefers to stay in Niflheim.”

“But he’s my soulmate!” Noct slaps a hand to his forehead. “Ugh, I’m so stupid! It would’ve taken three seconds for me to ask his name!”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I…” Noct trails off. “I never thought… he’s not the kind of person the Council would approve of. So I didn’t see the point.”

“Ah.” Ignis looks almost sympathetic. It makes Noct cringe in embarrassment. “Well, I suppose, then -”

A knock interrupts him. Noct jolts. After the consultation, he and Ignis had retreated to Noct's childhood bedroom in the Citadel to escape his father’s murderous glare. Naturally, the look was directed at everyone and everything but Noct, but the nagging sense of _you’ve disappointed him, you’ve disappointed him_ wouldn’t leave him alone. That combined with the indignation at being treated like a child yet again had him running from the medical center and taking refuge in a space he could at least pretend was private.

“Come in,” Noct startles into saying when the knock comes again. He straightens his back, preparing for the sound of his father’s cane against tile. He isn’t sure if he’s relieved or even more nervous when Cor walks in instead.

“Your Highness, Mr. Scientia,” he greets, formal as ever.

“Marshall,” Ignis says. “Is there news?”

“We’ve contacted the Chancellor,” Cor says, his voice carefully unemotional. “He’s amenable to meeting with His Highness.”

Noct’s heart thunders in his ears. Amenable. The Chancellor is _amenable._ At first he thinks the pressure in his throat is a lump of nervousness, but then something tickles his trachea and he keels over, coughing up a flower.

Cor is quick to grab a tissue and use it to pick up the saliva covered ball of petals. “I’ve never seen this species before.”

“Me, neither,” Noct coughs. The flower is just the same as the others, if a bit bigger. He reaches out and touches it. The petals are frayed and velvety, pleasant to the touch, and so white they sparkle like snow. There are hundreds of flowering plants that grow in the Citadel gardens, and Noct is certain this one is not among them. “Maybe it’s native to Niflheim.”

“We should be thankful the Chancellor’s favorite flower isn’t a rose,” Ignis says. “The thorns would be quite painful, I imagine.” Noct winces at the image.

Cor wipes the flower’s stem off and hands it to Noct. He looks at the little white thing, entranced, while Cor addresses Ignis. “The plan is for the Chancellor to arrive in Lucis sometime within the week. He will meet His Highness immediately upon reaching the Citadel. We have until he arrives to prepare.”

“ _Prepare_?” Noct groans. Of course it’ll have to be a big production. It’s not every day the crown prince confesses to his soulmate, after all.

“We’ll need guards for both His Highness and Chancellor Izunia. There’s still a fair bit of unrest from the peace treaty.” _Oh_ , Noctis thinks as Cor continues to speak. That kind of preparation. He isn’t sure if it’s better or worse than confetti and wedding bells.

“It would also be prudent to have medical personnel stationed outside the room,” Ignis adds on. “Just in case.”

“As I understand, it’s highly unlikely we’ll need them. Soul bonds are quite powerful. I doubt even Ardyn Izunia could resist its pull.” Cor glances over at Noct, still expressionless.

Noctis’s thoughts are going way too fast, a muddled string of _fuck fuck fuck_ and _stupid brain, stupid lungs, bet the gods are laughing at me_ and _Ardyn Ardyn Ardyn his name is Ardyn_. He doesn’t hear what Cor says next. It takes several attempts from both the Marshall and Ignis to get his attention before he snaps back to reality. “Yeah?”

“I said, His Majesty would like to see you, if you’re up for it,” Cor repeats, and Noct makes a noise he thinks would be more appropriate for a dying man. He agrees to go even though he’d rather curl up in bed and scream, because what choice does he have?

He meets his dad in a lavish sitting room. When a group of maids bring in tea and cakes, Noct snatches a plate and fills it with little chocolate cupcakes and bits of cheesecake. He desperately needs sugar; he’s running solely on adrenaline now, tired and very, very unprepared for this conversation. His dad takes his time pouring a cup of tea, stirring the sugar in with a small spoon while he avoids looking at Noct.

“Noctis,” his dad eventually says. Luckily, with the lack of anyone to seethe at except Noct, his features have softened. “I’d like to once again impress on you how dangerous this man is.”

“You’ve said that like five times,” Noct says.

“Well, I would like to say it again. Ardyn Izunia is a notorious conman. It is possible he will try and manipulate you when you meet. I’d simply like you to keep this in mind.”

“Yes, Father,” Noctis says. His jaw clenches.

“Additionally, I thought it prudent we discuss the Imperial Chancellor’s politics. Just because he was supportive of the treaty does not mean he bears Lucis any love. I understand that it may be exciting to meet your soulmate, but please be wary of what questions he asks, and how you answer.”

Noct doesn’t know how to respond to that. He stares at his dad with a half disbelieving, half offended expression. Regis clears his throat, takes a sip of his tea, and continues.

“And do remember there are protocols to follow regarding anything related to marriage or… consummation. He cannot pressure you into anything.”

“Is this is some sort of fucking joke,” Nocis says, conscious of the fact that he should not be cursing at his father, the _King_ , but unable to stop himself from doing so. “I’m not a damn kid!”

“Noctis, watch your tone.” Regis sits up straighter, ruffling his metaphorical feathers, and the attempt at looking the part of _intimidating and stern father_ makes Noct’s blood boil. “I am saying this for your own well-being -”

“Sure you are,” Noct snaps.

“Noctis Lucis Caelum,” his dad says, and yep, he’s genuinely angry at Noct now, hooray, “I will not tolerate any more of this behavior. You cannot ask that I treat you as an adult and then act like a child.”

“You haven’t been treating me like an adult since this morning!” Or ever. “Do you honestly think I’m stupid enough to spill state secrets just because Ardyn bats his eyes at me? Really?!”

His dad seems to soften a little, maybe understanding some of Noct’s frustrations, but it isn’t enough to bridge the ocean of emotional distance that’s been poisoning their relationship for years now. Noct tries to think of the man he’s been desperately trying to earn the approval of since childhood, the brave king who sacrifices himself for his kingdom, and can’t reconcile that man with the one sitting in front of him right now. “Of course I don’t believe that. I just want to make sure you’re completely aware of the situation.”

“I am,” Noct says. “Can I go now?”

“No, we haven’t yet -”

“Can I _go_ now?”

His dad buries his face in his hands. When he raises his head again, he looks even more tired than usual - bloodshot eyes, blue veins showing through pale skin, a slight shake to his hands. Noct’s heart twists in guilt. He’s saying “I’m sorry” before his dad even gets a word in.

“Noctis, please tell me what’s truly bothering you,” Regis says gently.

Noct grits his teeth. This entire day has been beyond awful. He doesn’t know what’s bothering him, what he’s feeling, or even what he’s _thinking._ Everything is just one big mess, and he wants to go pass out in his room so he won’t have to deal with any of it anymore. So he won’t have to listen to the gossip following him, to guards and maids chattering about what kind of person the prince’s soulmate must be, about how romantic it is that there are flowers growing in his lungs. About how the King has been in an overprotective fury since that morning.

He can’t escape this conversation, though, so he decides to just say whatever comes to mind, and damn the consequences. “You never even talk to me anymore. I haven’t seen you outside of Council meetings and official functions in _months_ , and now that I’m sick you suddenly want to play the concerned father act?”

Regis looks positively stricken. He sets his tea down with a quiet _clink_. “Noct, I -”

“I call you pretty much every week, and I always get your voicemail! Sometimes you text me and tell me you don’t have time to talk, but most of the time you don’t even bother with that. And besides,” he digs his nails into his hands, unable to stop the flood now that the dam is broken, “I think you forget how old I am. I’m twenty, not fifteen! Not ten! Sorry, but you missed those years.”

“ _Noct_ -”

“Don’t bother. I’ll see you at Council tomorrow. Goodbye, Father.” He slams the door shut on the way out, drawing concerned looks from the guards. His footsteps echo through the halls. Regis doesn’t follow him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the first time ever i'm posting a fic without having the rest of it done. fun times! (okay it's mostly done, i just need to finish the ending and edit all of it)  
> the rest of the chapters should be posted throughout the next week or so.


	2. Growth

There are exactly two sounds in Noct’s apartment: Ignis’s curry simmering, and the slow thump of Noct hitting his head against a pillow. Prompto is sitting next to him on the couch, wearing a nervous smile while he tries to make himself look busy. Gladio is expertly ignoring both of them while he reads his newest romance novel. The apartment smells fantastic, a combination of the curry and the air freshener Noct had bought a week prior to get rid of the perpetual stink from his overflowing garbage can. The sky outside is fading to a deep purple. It’s a Sunday night - they _should_ be partying, having one last hurrah before real life starts again on Monday, but Noct’s mood is too poor to even suggest video games.

After he’d left his dad’s rooms, half-hoping he’d follow him out and angry when he didn’t, Cor had approached him. He’d said, all while ignoring how red Noct’s eyes were, that the Chancellor had arranged to get to Insomnia by Friday. _Friday_ . He has until Friday to figure out what exactly he wants out of this, what he _can get_ out of this. He has until Friday to break the news of who he's pining for to the Council, figure out if he’s getting married or not, what this means for Lucis’s future, apologize to his dad -

Noctis screams into his pillow. Prompto jolts beside him. “Hey, buddy? You okay there?”

“No,” Noct groans.

“Perhaps you should tell us what’s troubling you. We might be able to help.” Ignis plates their dinner as he speaks. Noct’s stomach rumbles, but he can’t scrounge up the energy to get up and go to the kitchen. Gladio grabs Prompto by the arm and pulls him away, and it’s only when they all settle down and start eating without him, forks and glasses clinking, that Noct drags himself over to sit at the table.

Prompto nudges his arm as he rapidly shovels food in his mouth. “Hey, it’s okay if you’re upset. Like, none of us are judging you. Having Hanahaki has gotta be hard, and -”

“It’s not that,” Noct says around a mouthful of curry and rice. He groans at the disbelieving looks he gets from Ignis and Gladio. “Okay, it’s kind of that. But there’s other stuff, too. I… I snapped at Dad today.”

Gladio’s eyes widen. Ignis clears his throat. “What did you say?”

“I kind of… implied that he doesn’t care about me.”

“Oh, Noct. You know that isn’t true.”

“...yeah.” Noct squirms around uncomfortably in his seat. He’s long past the years when he ate his feelings and covered up hurt with anger, but that doesn’t mean talking openly is any easier than it was before. “I get it. I really do. I know Dad _doesn’t_ have time for me, he never has. And I know that he loves me. But it’s just… it’s hard.”

Prompto leans against him. There’s something profoundly sad on his face when he says, “I get you, Noct.”

It makes the guilt in his stomach swirl even tighter. Prompto’s family situation is much worse than his - his foster parents don’t have kingly duties as an excuse for not making time for their son. They just run off on vacation for most of the year and leave Prompto to himself. Compared to that, Noct’s dad is a saint. What does he have to complain about?

He shrugs Prompto off and pushes his plate away, then buries his head in his arms and sighs. “Sorry, guys, I know I’m a huge bummer tonight. You can go home if you want.”

“How kind of His Highness to give us permission to leave,” Gladio snarks, but he must notice the way it makes Noct tense up. He pats Noct's head affectionately. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’d rather stay the night. It’s getting late.”

“Agreed,” Ignis says, in a voice so warm it makes Noct want to cry.

They end up snuggled together in the guest bedroom. Noct’s bed is too small to fit all of them, and they have a habit of piling up whenever one of them is upset. Noct curls up into a ball with Gladio at his back and Prompto and Ignis at his front, and chews his lip. He wants to just forget about the mess he’d made earlier and focus on something less depressing.

The atmosphere’s just about perfect for a late night conversation, and it isn’t like they’ve never talked about romance before. Once, there was a week solid where they’d slept like this every night; on Monday Gladio had been gushing over a girl he’d met, and by Friday he was near tears over the rejection she gave him. Prompto has a never ending stream of crushes he’s always eager to talk about, and Ignis, while more reserved, has on occasion admitted to meeting someone who caught his fancy. Noct has never had anyone to talk about before, but with flowers growing in the flesh of his lungs acting as proof of his infatuation, it seems stupid to ignore it.

“So, uh…” he says, hoping someone will catch on.

Prompto comes to his rescue. “What’s he like?”

Gladio and Ignis shift closer, eager to listen in. Noct knows they’re wary of the Chancellor, that they have been since Noct broke the news earlier that day, but like Cor said, soul bonds are powerful things. If the gods think Ardyn is a good match for Noct, he will be, nationality and politics be damned. Noct takes a deep breath. “So, he’s really handsome.”

Gladio snorts. “A shallow start, but I’ll take it.”

“Oh, shut up!” Noct laughs. “I didn’t actually talk to the guy, I don’t have a lot to go off of here.”

“He looks sort of weird, though,” Prompto says, nose wrinkling. “Like, I’ve only seen pictures of him. Is his hair actually that color?”

“Yeah,” Noctis says. “It’s brighter in person. Like, wine colored? It’s gotta be natural, his beard is the same color.”

“And his eyes are, what, yellow?”

“Not yellow, more like… amber? I dunno how to describe it, but they’re warm. They kind of sparkle, like there’s bits of the sun in them. And he’s tall, at least a head on me. Strong, too. I’m pretty sure he could lift me no problem.”

“He dresses rather odd,” Ignis prompts when Noct trails off.

“That’s an understatement. He was wearing so many layers when I met him I thought he was gonna burn up. But his skin was kind of cold to the touch. Nice, though. Really nice.” Noct turns his head to bury his face in the pillow, hoping it’ll hide his blush. Actually talking about the situation is different from thinking about it; there’s a fuzzy feeling coloring his thoughts. He wonders if it’s just the soul bond, or something deeper. “He held me like he loved me. I don’t think I’ve ever been that relaxed before.”

“I gotta say, I was impressed by your dancing, kiddo. You took to his lead like a pro.”

“And even when he switched your positions and let you lead, you didn’t have any problems. You were perfectly in sync,” Ignis adds.

“I wish I could’ve seen it,” Prompto says. “It sounds so romantic…”

“Shut it,” Noct says, but he can’t stop himself from grinning. “He’s coming here on Friday. I don’t know what to say. Like, ‘hello, I’m your soulmate, please kiss me so I don’t die’?”

Ignis chuckles. “It could use some work, but that’s a start.”

They drift off into silence. Noct can tell no one’s fallen asleep yet, though, so he takes a deep breath and asks, “do you think he’ll be attracted to me?”

Prompto stares at him like he’s lost his mind. “Um, dude, what?”

Noct cringes. “Like, I know I’m skinny, and not all that handsome, so -”

“Woah, woah, woah, Noct, do you not know how hot you are?”

Noct blushes hard. “Prom, the hell are you talking about? You guys are all tens. I’m a seven on a good day.”

“Okay, the fuck.” Gladio smacks Noct on the side of the head. “Kid, we’re sevens. _You’re_ the ten.”

Noct twists around to show him his unimpressed expression, then gesture at Gladio’s bare chest like _are you kidding me?_

“Noctis, you’re breathtaking,” Ignis says, and if Noct wasn’t wishing he hadn't asked before, he definitely is now. “I’m sure Ardyn will be struck speechless by you.”

“If he isn’t, we’ll knock some sense into him,” Gladio says.

“Okay, that’s enough. Goodnight,” Noct mumbles, flipping over so he’s lying on his stomach. There’s an uncomfortable pressure in his throat, and before he knows it he’s coughing. Gladio rubs his back while he hacks into his hands, eventually producing two small flower blooms.

“Damn,” Prompto says. When Noct manages to push the tears from his eyes, he gets what he means. The petals are shimmering in the darkness, unfurling to reveal little yellow puffs in their center. Noctis leans over Prompto and Ignis to deposit them on the nightstand. He has a tupperware container he’d dropped the last flower in - he’ll add these two when he wakes up in the morning.

“You know, this would be a whole lot cuter if you weren’t dying,” Prompto says.

“Noct will not die,” Ignis says firmly. “The infestation will clear up once the Chancellor arrives.”

“...how does that happen, again?” Noct asks.

“As I understand it, the plant will detach itself from your lungs, and you’ll have to cough all of it up.”

Noct sighs. “Sounds wonderful.”

-=*=-

Noct wakes up the next morning determined to talk to his dad and apologize. Ignis and Prompto make breakfast for all of them, the scent of maple and blueberries filling the kitchen as they work, and Gladio steps out on the balcony to do push-ups in the early morning air. Noct slips into the bathroom and takes a deep breath before dialing his dad’s number. He has to be up by this time in the morning, and Noct is sure he wouldn’t ignore him after yesterday’s disaster.

The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. Five. Then it clicks and Noct is greeted by his dad’s voicemail.

He screams in frustration and hurls his phone at the wall.

There’s a knock at the door a few moments later. Noct manages to unclench his fists and control his angry breathing enough to call out, “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

Ignis opens the door anyway. He makes a short _tsk_ sound when he sees the cracked phone and dent in the wall. “I suppose it didn’t just slip out of your hand?”

“I tried calling Dad. He ignored me. Again!” Noct slams his hands down on the counter. He knows his eyes are flashing violet, but beneath the raw anger and magic there’s a hole in his heart, one that was cut out a long time ago, which awkward dinner conversations and brief hellos in busy hallways had never been able to fill. A lifetime of loneliness and inadequacy bubbles up to the surface. “I could be dying, and he still wouldn’t have time for me.”

“We both know that isn’t true.” Ignis lays a firm hand on his shoulder as Noct sniffles. “Why don’t we have breakfast, then head down to the Citadel. I’m sure we can arrange a face to face meeting with His Majesty.”

Noct doubts that. He follows Ignis into the kitchen anyway. Prompto presents him with a plate of blueberry pancakes and bacon drowning in maple syrup, and he digs in ravenously, trying to ignore the persistent ache in his heart. He’s vaguely aware of Ignis ordering him a new cellphone and Prompto leaving for work. Noct tries to slow down so the pancakes won't get stuck in his throat; he doesn’t have to leave for the Council meeting for another thirty minutes or so.

His eyes widen. The Council meeting.

“Iggy!” he shouts, causing his advisor to jump in alarm. “I didn’t finish the speech.”

Ignis palms his face. Noct feels guilty or causing him so much stress so early in the morning, but he can’t exactly control the panicked circles his mind is running in. “I’m sure the Council will accept a request to delay the review for a week or two, Noct. A lot has happened in the past day.”

The hole feels like it’s growing even faster than the flowers. “Fuck. Dad’s gonna hate me.”

“His Majesty does not hate you.”

Noct bites his lip. He knows that - sometimes it just feels like it.

He finishes the rest of his breakfast with dimmed enthusiasm, throws on a respectable outfit, and tries to get in the driver’s seat of his Audi. Ignis gently pushes him into the back while Gladio takes shotgun. Noct rests his head against the window, drifting in and out of sleep as he gazes out at the electric blue sky. The sun is only just getting ready to rise, and it seems it’s bringing rain with it; storm clouds are already gathering above the Wall. The day promises to be dreary and monochrome. Noct can already feel his knee aching with the chill.

Gladio parts from them at the lobby, and he and Ignis head to the Council chamber. They arrive early, but Noct insists on going to the bathroom first. He sits in a stall, head in his hands, until he’s late for the meeting.

Afterwards, he leaves before his dad has a chance to say anything. He doesn’t want to apologize like this - surrounded by prying eyes who see any display of emotion as a weakness, who are just waiting to tear into his father, to claim Noct is unsuitable as his heir. They have to talk alone, like they had yesterday, and gods, what if Noct does it again? What if he lashes out again, what if he lets the floodwaters loose again? He can’t stand the thought of it.

He tries thinking about Ardyn instead, but all that accomplishes is another trip to the bathroom where he coughs flowers into a toilet for ten minutes straight. He looks at the blooms and groans, not believing there’s a plant growing inside him. He _hates_ plants, edible or not. He flushes the blooms without even considering fishing them out and storing them in his box at home.

Noct spends the rest of the day simply wandering around the Citadel, smiling blandly at people who congratulate him on the whole disease-that-could-kill-you thing. Apparently Hanahaki is so rare that most people think it’s horribly romantic instead of just horrible. One maid, a plump woman Noct vaguely recognizes - not because he’s ever spoken to her, but because she’s worked for the Crown for so long - laughs about how his _lover_ must be a beauty to rival his own. Noct laughs, too, and continues on his way, wondering if Ardyn could be called _beautiful_. The thought, along with the realization that last night all he could talk about was what Ardyn _looked like,_ has him reeling.

Gladio was right; he is shallow. He’d spent a whole night in his soulmate’s company and all he’d managed to pick up on was that he’s hot? Don’t people always say soulmates can tell each other’s personalities with only a glance? A curl of self-hatred settles in his gut, alongside the nervousness. Noct is an inadequate son _and_ an inadequate soulmate, it seems; he only hopes Ardyn isn’t too disappointed when they meet.

His feet carry him to the Royal Archives. Here there are rooms and rooms of old royal junk, from furniture to art to clothes, anything the old kings and queens of Lucis owned - and, being royalty, they tended to own a lot. Noct shuffles in, nodding briefly to the guards stationed outside. As a royal, he has free reign to this space whenever he wants to visit. Technically, he has the right to remove stuff from it, too, but his dad would kill him if he did that. It would be _irresponsible_.

(One time, when a girl in his class was devastated over losing her favorite bracelet, Noct had snuck out a similar looking one from the Archives. She’d been ecstatic to receive it as a gift. Noct doesn’t think he ever talked to her again, but she wore the bracelet every day until graduation. It struck him as stupid to keep such a little object locked away in the Citadel when it could make someone so happy.

He’d also gotten Ignis’s necklace and an ornamental shield for Gladio and a royal insignia for Prompto from this space, plus a few pieces of jewelry for Iris and some old armor for a class play in high school, so maybe he’s broken the rules more than just one time, but whatever. His ancestors are dead; this junk is his and his dad’s now, and it’s not like anyone’s missing it.)

He steps around statues and massive paintings covered in tarp, looking around for anything interesting enough to take his mind off of everything, until he reaches a small display case in the back of the room. The case is glass, covered in dust, and the painting within is old and dirty. It takes Noct a minute to recognize it; it’s one of the paintings due for a cleaning, meant to be funded by Noct’s proposed budget. On top of that, it’s the one he’d liked as a child. It makes him strangely sad to see how much it’s deteriorated in only a few years. He squats down in front of it, staring at the dirtied figure of an ancient king riding a black chocobo. Noct always liked the figure, even as a child; he looks poised but humble. His dad had said, once, that this man was probably well acquainted with humility, since his portrait is so small. Small or not, the painting is beautiful, and Noct trails his fingers over the glass as he takes in what features aren’t hidden behind the grime; slim but strong frame, tall… violet hair…

A warmth on his hand jolts him out of his reverie. He looks down, eyes widening. His soul thread is visible, a little red string tied tightly around his ring finger. It’s said that the thread is only visible when one sees their soulmate, but sometimes the effect can be achieved with a picture or video. Or, apparently, a painting.

Noct bolts.

-=*=-

Ignis is definitely annoyed when Noct bursts into his office and tells him to ditch his work. He’s less annoyed when Noct drags him to the royal library, but still confused. He’s been trying to get Noct to visit the library voluntarily for years, so he isn’t about to start complaining; still, Noct can see the blatant bewilderment on his face when he runs to the librarian’s desk and asks for every text they have on the ancient kings.

The librarian is confused, too, but readily accepts her prince’s task. She needs to ask questions, though - what time period, does Noct want to include kings from offshoot lines that temporarily overthrew the Lucis Caelums, what about queens, does he want kings of Lucis or Solheim - and Noct tries his best to answer all of them. He has no idea what time period. Part of the restoration project was to date the painting, because as of now they have no idea when it was painted. He awkwardly describes the clothing style of the king in question, and the librarian nods and pulls some books off a shelf. Sure, Noct says, include usurper kings. She passes two more books. Male rulers only, please, actually wait, looking at queens might be useful, too. A huge tome on the women of the Lucis Caelum family comes down. And sure, throw Solheim in on top of it. Eventually he and Ignis have a massive pile of history books and the rest of the afternoon to look them over.

Ignis, naturally, needs to know what they’re looking for, and why. Noct doesn’t really want to tell him, so he comes up with some lie about finding a painting depicting an ancient king and his soulmate, and wants to learn more about the guy. That doesn’t clear much up, but Ignis takes to the task anyway, searching based on the description Noct provides. Long hair, white robes, black chocobo mount. He leaves the violet out of it. It’s too unusual a color, and Ignis is too astute when it comes to Noct’s piss poor attempts at lying.

Even Noct is unsure of what they’ll find. He doesn’t think Imperial Chancellor Ardyn Izunia could be one of the Kings of Yore, but in a world where the gods tie people together with red string and there are roots digging into Noct’s lungs, it seems stupid to imagine that there _can’t_ be immortals out there somewhere. Noct pours over the pages showing his direct lineage, desperately hoping he won’t find Ardyn there. If the man is part of his family but only distantly related to him, he can deal. If he’s one of Noct’s direct ancestors? He’s not sure.

Eventually Ignis clears his throat and taps the book he’s on; it’s open to page 1034, and the text is so small he’s leaning in close to read it. Noct shuffles over.

“This man appears to match your description,” Ignis says. The section he’s pointing to describes a healer-king, name unspecified, who ruled briefly during the Solheim era before the kingdom was renamed Lucis. Apparently he was succeeded by his younger brother when illness took him, and only ruled a short time. There’s a small extremely stylized portrait next to the text.

Noct glances down as Ignis hurriedly packs up his things, muttering something about being late to a meeting. His soul thread is flickering faintly.

Okay. So, two thousand years removed, and not in his direct lineage. Not even really related. Noct _can_ deal, thank the gods.

“Unless you need anything else, Your Highness, I’ll be going now,” Ignis says. Noct gives him a rare hug around the shoulders as thanks for his help. Ignis leaves slightly less miffed.

Noct takes the book up to the librarian and asks if they have anything else on the healer-king. She spends a few moments helping him recover three books, one of them so old he needs to sign special paperwork to check it out, and sends him on his way, shooing him when he tries to help her put back the books he and Ignis had been reading. Noct clutches his prizes close to his chest, trying to balance both their immense weight and the messenger bag at his side. He’s still adjusting them when he turns a corner and almost runs directly into his dad.

Regis stumbles back, trying to balance himself with his cane. He looks even worse than yesterday, older and more strained, his knee shaking even with his brace.

“Noctis,” he says, and the lack of nickname has Noct grimacing. He knows his dad isn’t angry at him, knows he’s using his full name because he feels like he doesn’t have the right to use his nickname, but that doesn’t stop Noct's brain from screaming _apologize, apologize, apologize._

_Soon,_ he promises it.

Noct bows to his dad for propriety’s sake, and says, “Your Majesty, I’m glad to have caught you. Would it be possible for us to talk sometime today? Maybe tomorrow?”

Regis sighs heavily and palms his face. Clarus steps up to subtly support his liege’s buckling leg. “I’m very busy today, son. If you had contacted me earlier, perhaps we could’ve arranged something.”

Noct starts shaking. He forces the bitterness out of his voice. “I called you this morning. You didn’t answer.”

Even Clarus cringes at that. His dad makes a choked noise. “I can squeeze a moment out now, if you’re free.”

“Your Majesty,” Ignis’s uncle says, “you have an appointment with Captain Ulric in five minutes.”

“Go on ahead and tell him to expect a delay, please,” Regis says, and the tightness in Noct’s chest lessens somewhat. Clarus helps his dad into a nearby conference room, which is quickly cleared of servants in favor of giving the King and prince a semblance of privacy. The room is cold and dimly lit, the sky outside gathering storm clouds at a record pace. Noct helps his father into a chair, then sits down. Regis is at the head of the table, Noct at his side. Even for private conversations between father and son, the dynamic of King and subject remains.

Noct resorts to propriety again to avoid another outburst. He bows his head. “Father, I’d like to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I was out of line.”

“Noctis.” Regis places a hand over Noct’s. His skin is clammy. “I should be the one apologizing. I know I haven’t been a good father -”

“You’ve been a great father!” Noct says, sitting up. “Dad, you’re top tier. At least five stars.”

Regis chuckles, more out of reflex than actual humor. “I fear I cannot accept that, given what happened yesterday.”

“Look, I... I know how this looks, but I’m just stressed out about... everything. It’s not your fault.” Noct runs a hand through his hair. The books shift on his lap, and he has to grab at them quickly to keep them from falling to the floor.

Regis regards the books with the practiced impassivity of a king. “What are those?”

Noct freezes. He can’t use the same excuse he did with Ignis, since his dad will only be upset Noct hadn’t come to him for advice instead. “Uh. Remember the budget I was supposed to present to the Council today?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I figured since we were postponing it and all, I’d do some, uh, more research? On the art. These books have some information in them about one of the kings whose portrait is gonna be cleaned, so. Yeah. That’s why I’ve got them.”

Regis huffs and pats Noct’s hand before moving away. “You work too hard, son.”

“I just… want to make you proud.”

“I’m already proud of you,” his dad says. It’s a nice sentiment, but Noct knows it’s empty. He glances at the clock on his wrist and shifts in his seat. For a moment Noct thinks he’s going to get up and leave, but then he settles again. “So, who is this king?”

Useless idle talk to prolong a moment that’s already over. Many people have tried to use this trick on Noct - high school classmates, Council members, nosy reporters - but never his father. Noct scrambles to open one of the books to the correct page. “He was a healer-king who lived maybe two thousand years ago. Apparently he was well-loved by the people, but his reign only lasted half a day. He died of an illness.”

Regis’s brows raise. “Less than a day to reign, and he had a portrait painted of him? In that era? Well-loved indeed, it would seem.”

“Yeah,” Noct says, hiding his hand under the books. He can feel his thread flickering as he looks at the illustration.

A light rapt comes at the door. Mr. Scientia pokes his head in. “Your Majesty?”

Regis sighs. “I’m afraid I must take my leave, Noct.”

“I know,” Noct says. “See you…?”

“How about Thursday, for dinner?”

Thursday. One day before he meets Ardyn. Noct manages a smile. “Sounds great.”

His dad leaves. Somehow, it doesn’t feel like they’ve cleared the air any. The sky outside breaks into a cascade of rain, beating against the Citadel’s windows with a lonely cadence. Noct sets the books carefully on the table, then goes to the window. He rests his hand on the glass and looks out over the city. With the dreary atmosphere brought on by the rain, sleepy yet sleep _less_ , it seems worthy of its namesake.

Noct lets his head fall against the cold glass. He stays like that even as his chest starts to tingle. He tries to cough, but nothing comes up.

It’s the leaves unfurling, he realizes belatedly. A new sprout growing. A new bloom to cough up.

He stares out into the rain and wonders if Ardyn is out there thinking of him, if he holds that night as dearly as Noct does. If he’s lonely, too. Then he glances back at the books, proof of his soulmate’s reign, and thinks _it’s weird they bothered crowning him if he was sick._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> breaking news: prince noctis, voted "sexiest guy in eos" by like a billion people in every vapid lucian magazine ever published, thinks he's unattractive. more at 11.


	3. Bloom

The next few days pass in a blur. Noct dutifully works on the budget proposal, writing and rewriting his speech until Ignis tears it out of his hands and replaces it with a controller. He spends his time on Tuesday and Wednesday playing video games during the day and reading his books at night. They repeat the same information over and over again, providing no revelations about Ardyn’s apparent immortality. Noct thinks he might be going crazy, rereading the same passages, tugging on his soul thread and hoping Ardyn can feel it somehow. When the nerves get to be too much he asks Cor if he can call Ardyn before he gets to Insomnia. At first it seems possible, but then his dad catches wind of the situation and shuts it down.

That’s when Noct learns his dad wants him and Ardyn to be under complete supervision on Friday. It takes every ounce of strength he has, but he manages to convince him to give them at least a _little_ time alone, thank the gods. He doesn’t think he could handle trying to flirt with Ardyn while his dad is in the room.

Regis won’t budge on the phone issue, though. Noct likes to think he took the decision with grace.

On Wednesday night, Ignis finds him on the floor, curled up in a pile of blankets, and sets a phone in his lap.

He goes to make dinner without giving Noct any kind of explanation. The phone has nothing on it, even sports the default blue wallpaper, but there’s one message in the notifications bar. Noct taps it.

_It has come to my attention that you wish to converse before we see each other two days hence. How are you, my dear?_

Noct’s mouth goes dry. The leaves tickle his lungs.

He taps out a response so quickly he has to go back and rewrite it three times to get rid of the typos. _i’m okay, how are you_

It must be the blandest text a guy like Ardyn has ever got, but he doesn’t seem to mind. _I’m doing quite well, now that I know I’ll get to see you again._

The text has him trembling, just a little. He glances over at the kitchen, where Ignis is dutifully making lasagna and ignoring him. Noct jumps when the phone buzzes again.

_I admit, I was worried. For the longest time, I thought you’d wanted nothing to do with me! It seems the truth is quite the opposite, nay?_

_yeah. i thought the same about you_

_that you didn’t want to see me, i mean_

_since you never contacted me_

Noct can almost _feel_ Ardyn’s exasperation. Gods, why is he like this? Why can’t he be a little bit cool, just this once? At least they aren’t actually _talking_. Noct thinks he might short circuit if he heard Ardyn’s voice.

He’s going to hear his voice in two days. Crap, maybe this disease _will_ kill him.

 _I was waiting for you to contact me,_ Ardyn types, unaware of Noct’s turmoil. _As I was the one to initiate our dance, it was your turn to push our courtship further. I was a tad disappointed when you did nothing._

That’s certainly an antiquated concept of dating. It might be worth a try to get more out of him. _courtship? what era is this, again?_

 _Forgive me, my dear. I’m something of a traditionalist._ It’s a non-answer; typical of a politician, not so much a king. _May I ask why you wanted to speak with me so urgently?_

_i_

That’s as much as Noct can write. He could tell the truth, tell Ardyn exactly what he’s learned and ask what he wants to know, but something about Ardyn’s demeanor tells him that it won’t go over well. He can’t risk pissing the guy off so much he doesn’t want to meet Noct at all.

He writes a long winded message anyway, starting with _so i found this old painting of an ancient king in the archives and i guess it’s a painting of you but it’s weird because shouldn’t you be dead? also what happened to you like the books said you were sick but i’m not sure i believe them_.

He promptly deletes all of it and stares at the blank message bar some more.

When Ardyn finally texts _Still there?_ he taps out a neutral _i want to know more about you._

Luckily, that lands him a decent answer. _An excellent question! As you know, my name is Ardyn Izunia. I’d give you a list of my titles and accomplishments, but this isn’t a conversation between two rulers, is it? Let’s start with something less formal. My hobbies are reading, playing chess, and wine tasting. Yours?_

Noct laughs. Wine tasting? Even his dad hates wine tasting. Even _Ignis_ hates wine tasting. _i like fishing and video games_

_So, an outdoorsman and an introvert? You’re quite the enigma. Fear not, I adore solving puzzles._

_so do i_

He texts Ardyn until dinner is ready. When Ignis calls him over, he taps out a goodbye to Ardyn, and, after several frantic seconds of back and forth, adds a heart emoji after it. Ardyn replies with a winky face, and Noct goes to splash his face with water before joining Ignis at the table.

His blush must still be visible, because Ignis asks “did you have a nice chat?”

“Yeah,” Noct says. “How did you, uh..?”

“Cor spoke to Captain Ulric of the Glaive - he’s acquainted with General Glauca. They arranged everything. My part was simply to deliver the phone to you.” He pauses for a moment. “His Majesty doesn’t know. Kindly refrain from telling him, lest he fire all of us.”

“I don’t think he’d fire you,” Noct says.

“Well, please err on the side of caution anyway.”

They finish dinner. Noct immediately jumps back on his phone, and finds Ardyn still awake. They chat for hours - about their interests, their daily lives. Their families. Ardyn obviously doesn’t admit to being a Lucis Caelum, but he does mention a few people who are close to him. One Verstael, a former colleague at the Niflheimr Science Institute, and an Aranea, who left the country five years prior with a child in tow. Not her’s, Ardyn is quick to specify, but he doesn’t give any more details and Noct is too jittery to push him.

They talk until Noct is forcing back yawns and struggling to keep his eyes open. When he realizes it’s three am, he types out a frantic apology for keeping Ardyn up so late.

_Don’t worry about a thing. Any time spent speaking with charming company is time well spent._

Noct tells him goodnight and tosses the phone onto the floor.

So, there’s a lot more to like about his soulmate than just his looks. He’s witty but not cruel, flirty but not pushy, and sweet with a charming if dated sense of decorum. Noct’s thoughts keep wandering, dreaming up futures where he and Ardyn get married in a big royal ceremony and bring about a more stable peace. Adopt some kids, grow old together. All things Noct has always known he’d do with _someone,_ but assumed it would be someone he didn’t love.

He doesn’t think this is love yet, but it’s getting dangerously close. As if it’s agreeing with him, the roots tighten their hold, and Noct floats in and out of sleep for hours, the pain just acute enough to keep him from falling completely unconscious. During one particularly harsh coughing fit, a bit of liquid comes up with the flowers.

It’s blood.

-=*=-

When Thursday afternoon comes Ignis drives him to the Citadel to survey the proceedings. A sitting room has been repurposed into what looks like a scene from one of Gladio’s romance novels - all flowers and soft colors and careful lighting. It only needs a bed covered in rose petals to complete the look. The sight makes butterflies erupt in Noct’s stomach while his lungs seize.

He’s starting to feel the effects of the plant more clearly; the way its leaves tickle his lungs on every exhale, the way the flowers expand on the inhales. Sometimes he’s hit with a stab of pain as the roots dig deeper. Noct finds himself looking forward to meeting Ardyn more and more, if only to get rid of the damn thing.

He texts Ardyn throughout the day, and the Chancellor always responds within a few seconds. Noct is sure he must be busy even while traveling, but he replies to Noct’s every message, even when he just sends him a picture of a saliva-soaked flower in his hand and the caption _THIS IS YOUR DAMN FAULT._

The reply he gets is _Anger looks good on you, darling._ He carefully cleans the flower off and tucks it into his pocket.

The Council, of course, has figured out what’s going on. They know Noct has Hanahaki (like the rest of the city, because rumors travel fast), and they also know the Chancellor is dropping in for a visit on very short notice. Even the more self-absorbed Councilmen and women are capable of connecting the dots. Today, though, is the last day Noct has to properly explain the situation to them. His father is letting him handle it, maybe out of guilt for having treated him like a kid earlier. Normally Noct would be grateful, but he thinks he wouldn’t mind hiding behind his dad just this once.

Ignis corrals him over to the Council chamber once they’re done approving of the preparations. Gladio joins them for moral support. As Noct faces down the Council, most of them old men and women who have disliked him for years, he struggles to find a friendly face. Clarus passes him a small smile from his dad’s side, and he finally finds the space to breathe.

He starts with “good morning,” earning a murmur of greetings from those gathered. He decides to get straight to the point. “As you’re all likely aware, I have contracted Hanahaki Disease. I’m sure you’re also aware that Chancellor Izunia -” he coughs a little at the name and has to swallow a petal to keep it from coming up “-will be visiting Insomnia tomorrow.”

“And these two events are related,” a Councilwoman says, more a statement than a question.

“Yes,” Noct says. He wrings his hands in his lap. “Chancellor Izunia is my soulmate.”

Immediately there’s a burst of discussion. Noct doesn’t hear all of it, but what he does hear is overwhelmingly negative. He swallows down another petal as his father calls for order.

Regis starts to speak and the attention shifts to him, giving Noct a chance to relax his shoulders. “I know this must come as a shock to you all, however on this matter I must stand firm. My son’s life is at risk. Our only course of action is to leave the future in the hands of the gods, and trust that they know best.”

“But a soul bond with the Chancellor?” a Councilman hisses. “ _Him_ , of all people?”

Noct sinks into his seat. It’s not like he _chose_ Ardyn, although he’s starting to think he would have.

“As I said, this was a decision of the gods,” his dad continues. “None of us have any right to dispute it. If anything, we should look at this as a political opportunity. A marriage between the heir of Lucis and the Chancellor of Niflheim will strengthen the bond between our nations and validate the peace treaty, which, as we all know, is on thin ice as is.”

That leads to another round of discussion. Noct tries to look nonplussed as the Council talk about how they can use this to control his life.

When one of the Councilwomen mentions marriage, the flowers tickle his throat. He leans over to Ignis. “You’re baking the cake.”

“Will do, Your Highness,” Ignis says. “Chocolate or vanilla?”

Noct thinks. “Marbled, with chocolate frosting.”

“What, you’re not letting Ardyn in on the planning?” Gladio says.

“Nope. I get to decide on the food at my own wedding.” Noct slides his phone out from his pocket. “Think Iris will agree to be the flower girl?”

“She’ll be thrilled for any excuse to dress shop.”

Noct texts Ardyn as the Council’s conversation fades into the background. _guess we’re getting married. the council already decided_

_Well, that was fast! Are we going for a traditional Lucian or Niflheimr affair?_

_dunno, what’re niflheimr weddings like?_

_They begin with one of the lovers slaying a wild behemoth and presenting its guts to their spouse as a wedding present._

_cute. i’ll kill the biggest behemoth i can find for you_

_I’ll be flattered!_

Noct drifts off into his own head instead of replying. He thinks about everything he knows about Ardyn. He had to have been one of the first kings of Solheim, reigning close to the time of the Founder-King. The information available on any rulers at that time is scarce, so pinpointing exact dates is difficult. It’s also been damn near impossible for him to find anything about his “death” - every source that mentions it says he simply died of an illness. The lack of specificity is typical of that time period, but Noct can’t help but feel that something else is going on. Firstly, is Ardyn immortal or reincarnated? Did he even die at all? Was he removed from power of his volition or not?

The minimal information he can find on his successor worries him. The younger brother, Noct’s distant ancestor, was said to be a warrior king, leading conquests deep into the territories outside of Cavaugh. One book, the old one he’d had to pinkie promise he wouldn’t damage, had a single line in it about the man: _the two brothers fought, but in death their differences were reconciled._

That could mean several things. It could mean they were at odds when alive, but forgave each other while Ardyn was on his death bed.

It could mean one killed the other.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when Ignis clears his throat. Noct looks up, blushing in embarrassment as the rest of the Council stands, having apparently been dismissed. He hurriedly jumps to his feet when his dad approaches.

He’s wearing a tight frown. Noct resigns himself to the news before it even leaves his mouth. “I’m so sorry, Noctis, but they’re insisting we continue this discussion after a recess. I’m afraid we’ll have to reschedule dinner.”

“That’s fine,” Noct says, suddenly exhausted. “Can I go home?”

Regis tries for a fatherly smile, but it comes off cold. “Of course. Be at the Citadel by seven tomorrow morning, please.”

Noct doesn’t answer. There’s another bunch of leaves coming up his throat, and he doesn’t want to worry his dad by coughing in front of him. He makes it all the way to the end of the hall before he has to duck around a corner and hack them up. They’re just sharp enough to leave little scratches inside his throat and mouth, and droplets of blood cling to them. Ignis’s eyes widen at the sight. He passes Noct a small potion from the Armiger. Noct smashes it against his throat, hoping it’ll seep in and clean the cuts in his trachea.

“Is it supposed to be this bad?” Gladio asks.

“I’m not sure,” Ignis says. “Perhaps a trip to the medical center would be prudent.”

“No,” Noct gasps. “Ardyn’s gonna be here tomorrow, right? It won’t matter then.” It won’t matter if Ardyn loves him, but Noct is still worried that won’t happen. Ardyn seems interested, sure, but flirting through text is hard. Noct might be reading into something that isn’t there.

He can’t imagine Ardyn _won’t_ take one look at him, stick up his nose, and fuck off back to Niflheim. Even if he pities Noct, Hanahaki is aggressive. It won’t fade until Noct’s love is returned.

His love. Fuck. He is in love, isn’t he?

He spends the night coughing up flowers, waiting for the morning to come. He doesn’t dare text Ardyn again, lest his nerves make him say something stupid. By the time morning arrives, Ignis stepping into his apartment alongside the first rays of sunlight, Noct is already dressed and ready to go.

He has a soulmate to interrogate.

-=*=-

The Citadel is bustling. So far the reason for the Chancellor’s sudden visit has been kept from the public, but like the Council, the media is not completely stupid. Noct doesn’t bother checking the news; he already knows the kind of sensationalized garbage that will be there. All headlines like “Crown Prince in Love with Imperial Chancellor?” and “Forbidden Romance - did Love Bloom in Altissia Last Year?” All senseless, tasteless trash, the type Noct has been dealing with since he was a teenager. Instead, he focuses on playing King’s Knight with Prompto and Gladio as they wait around for word that the Chancellor has entered the Citadel. Texting Ardyn now, after ignoring him for an entire night, feels stupid. They’ll see each other in person soon, anyway.

Prompto tries his best to make idle talk, but Noct feels like if he opens his mouth he’ll vomit, so the best he can do is little nods and fake smiles. Gladio presents him with a list of websites, news articles, and rumor lists about the Chancellor, all under the guise of ‘preparing’ him to meet the guy. Apparently he’s a well known charmer who’s sneaky and resourceful, and doesn’t think twice about selling anyone out if it’ll benefit himself. It’s no worse than the way politicians are in Insomnia, but it doesn’t boost Noct’s confidence. Especially when he finds a site all on his own that details the many, many admirers Ardyn Izunia has. Compared to them - fine young men and women of upper Niflheimr society, with graceful dispositions and witty tongues - does he have a chance? Will the thread connecting them be enough?

What if he’s just been playing with Noct as some sick form of entertainment?

Ardyn arrives not long after the sun finishes rising. Noct freezes at the news, then slowly stands, flanked by Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto. His dad is waiting for them by the door to the appointed room. He places a reassuring hand on Noct’s shoulder. It feels cold and heavy like steel.

“We’ll be right outside,” his dad promises. Noct nods as he steps into the room, moving on autopilot.

Ardyn is sitting, facing away from him. He looks like a statue, pristine and perfect under the light of dawn shining in through the window. A daytime sky to Noctis’s starry night. The moment the door closes and sets the space apart from the rest of the world, Ardyn stands and turns to greet him.

Immediately after Noct sees his face he starts hacking up flowers.

“Oh, dear,” Ardyn says. Noct feels like he could die of embarrassment before the plant suffocates him, but he just can’t stop coughing. The flowers and leaves come up, some of them covered in blood, over and over again. At first Noct thinks he might be hacking up the entire plant like Ignis said he would, but he doesn’t see any roots in the small pile of vegetation at his feet. Ardyn kneels in front of him, and while Noct sees him raise his hand, he still jolts when he starts stroking his hair.

“Poor thing,” the Chancellor croons. “And all this, because of little old me?”

Somehow, he sounds exactly how Noct expected him to. He coughs miserably as Ardyn uses a single gloved finger to wipe the tear tracks on his cheeks. “Hi,” he chokes out.

Ardyn chuckles. He swipes one of the blossoms off the floor. “Hello yourself. Shall we sit, Your Highness?”

Noct lets Ardyn help him up and over to the couch. Ardyn sits at a fair distance, but pulls one leg up so his knee is touching Noct’s leg.

“You can call me Noct,” he says, not sure where else to start. Texting is one thing. Speaking is a whole different territory.

“So familiar already?” Ardyn smiles. It’s an open look, but there’s something off about it. Noct tries to search his face, looking for the answer, but it disappears just as quickly as it came. “Very well, then. Please call me Ardyn.”

Noct already has been, but Ardyn doesn’t need to know that. “So, we’re soulmates,” he says, breaching the topic he hadn’t brought up in the texts.

“Indeed.”

He fidgets his hands in his lap. “Right.”

Ardyn sighs suddenly, and tosses a hand over his eyes. He looks more like a swooning maiden than the strong king whose painting sits filthy and uncared for in the archives. Noct suddenly wonders if he should have brought it out. Ardyn might not appreciate the gesture, though, if his theory about his brother is correct. “It seems pointless to beat around the bush any longer, so allow me to strike at the heart of the issue. You have Hanahaki Disease - the Lover’s Sickness, as they call it. Because of _me_.” He grins toothily.

Noct bristles subconsciously. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“What a delightful situation,” Ardyn says. He twirls the flower between his fingers. “Moon’s tears. It’s been some time since I saw one last.”

It takes Noct a moment to realize he’s talking about the flower. “Is that what they’re called? We couldn’t figure out what they were. They’re pretty, though.”

“Very,” Ardyn agrees. “They were said to have been sown when the sun rejected the moon. She wept so beautifully the gods wished to preserve her tears, so they turned them into flowers. I don’t blame you for not knowing them. They’ve been extinct for nearly a thousand years.”

Ardyn’s tone is careful, poised. The hair on the back of Noct’s neck rises as he realizes just how exact all of Ardyn’s actions are. It feels like he’s playing a part in a play. “That’s a nice story.”

“Nice, yes, but factually incorrect. The gods care not for such trifles. These flowers came and went just as all other life does; they were born… and they died. Although now you have given them new soil to grow in.” Something odd happens to the light in the room. It flickers, dims, and Noct startles. There are no clouds outside, a far cry from yesterday’s rains, and the chandelier isn’t any dimmer. The light is just… faded. Noct turns to Ardyn, eyes widening. Ardyn grins.

He reaches out a hand and brushes his knuckles against Noct’s cheek. “What a splendid creature you are.”

“I know who you are,” Noct says suddenly. “You’re one of the Kings of Yore. You should be a Lucii. You should be _dead._ What happened to you?”

Ardyn laughs. Something black oozes out of his mouth, viscous and bubbling. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

The magic of the Crystal, the part that belongs to Noct, always tugging on his heartstrings, leaps. It twists and turns uncomfortably, trying to resist the pull Ardyn has on it. Noct’s vision flashes white, the moon’s tear in Ardyn’s hand turns into a sylleblossom, and Luna says with twinkling eyes that _only the Chosen King, annointed by the Crystal, can purge our star of its scourge._

Noct touches Ardyn’s face. More ichor spills from his lips and eyes. The place where their skin meets is electrified. “You’re the Accursed…?” he says, his voice trembling.

“The gods have a funny sense of humor, don’t they? I must say, I was looking forward to ripping you apart limb from pitiful limb, but I suppose letting you suffocate on your love for me is just as good.” Noct’s vision spots black as Ardyn grabs his hand, raising it to his lips for a kiss. “Sweet dreams, Your Majesty.”

The world goes black.

Noct wakes up with a horrible feeling in his throat. Before he knows it, he’s keeling over, eyes still screwed shut, and choking. His throat burns as sharp leaves dig into it, blood mixes with petals in his mouth, and he gasps, desperately trying to breathe. Three powerful coughs rack through his whole body. Thank the gods, the flowers come up, along with a small pile of broken stems and ripped leaves. Noct spits more blood out over them, and struggles to sit up.

There’s an unyielding pressure in his lungs. The moon’s tears tickle him when he breathes, and he resorts to taking short, shallow breaths to keep the leaves from cutting him up any further. His throat burns and aches. His gums hurt. He presses a hand to the bottom of his throat and pants as he wipes tears from his eyes, looking around the room.

It’s just the same as it had been when he’d passed out. The lights are back to normal. The only proof Ardyn had been there at all is the black sludge smeared over Noct’s hand. He shudders and draws himself up, stumbling to the door. His entire body feels weak, limbs shaking, and he has to lean into the door to get it to open.

Everyone is still just outside in the hallway, talking in hushed voices. Noct wonders if they’d heard the coughing, but thought it was just the plant coming up. When he stumbles through, swaying on his feet, Gladio instinctively rushes forward to catch him. Ignis, Prompto, and his dad are at his side, and a medic is close behind.

“Noctis? What happened?” Regis demands. “Where’s the Chancellor?”

Noct hiccups. He meant it to be a laugh, but chokes as another flower forces its way up his throat and out of his mouth. “He’s going to let me die,” he coughs. “He _wants_ me to _die_.”

Regis’s face darkens. “Clarus, Cor. Arrest Chancellor Izunia, please.”

“No,” Noct croaks. Prompto grabs one of his hands, saying “buddy, hey, you okay? you with us?” while a medic pries open his mouth and shines a light in. There’s a shout, something like “he needs emergency care, now,” and he’s being lifted onto a stretcher. Everyone is moving fast, too fast, and Noct chokes and says “no, you can’t, he’s dangerous, he's...”

“It’ll be alright, Noct,” Ignis says, his voice calm but his expression panicked. In the background, Noct hears Crownsguard shouting to each other. They can’t find Ardyn, because Ardyn has flown on the shadows back to Niflheim, is probably miles away from Insomnia by now. Or maybe he’s somewhere nearby, watching in amusement as Noct gasps and struggles to breathe.

“Wait, he’s… he’s…” Noct says, trying to get it out, but he’s shushed and rolled onto his side. The flowers come up, beautiful little things, and as he blacks out he wonders if Ardyn made up the story just to mock him.

 _That fucking bastard,_ Noct thinks hysterically. _I could help him if he’d let me. I could, I could, I could…_

At that moment, he realizes that nothing about his feelings has changed. His affection is only stronger, growing its roots in faster, and he hacks and shudders and berates himself for his stupidity.

-=*=-

There’s a soft bed under him and a thin sheet on top of him. Noct opens his eyes to a white hospital room, with white walls and white curtains and a white bed for him to rest on. A weight shifts at his side, and Noct watches his father sleep, his head and arms on the bed while the rest of his body sits in a wiry chair. The position must be horribly uncomfortable.

There’s an oxygen mask over his face, and Noct knows how urgently he needs it, so instead of taking it off to talk he shakes his dad’s arm until he starts to rouse.

His dad grabs Noct's hand with bruising urgency the moment he sees that his eyes are open. “Noctis. How do you feel?”

Noct pulls the mask away for just long enough to say, “like shit.”

“I’m so sorry, son.”

Noct pushes up on his elbows. His dad props his pillow up behind him so he can sit up comfortably. “It’s not your fault.”

“I feel it is. If I’d acted differently - insisted on surgery, or explained things to you in Altissia, perhaps -”

“It’s useless thinking that way now, Dad,” Noct says. Speaking with his throat hurting the way it is burns, but it’s better than letting his dad wallow in guilt. “What happened to Ardyn? Where’d he go?”

Regis practically growls. “That man vanished before we could apprehend him. There was no sign of him anywhere in the Citadel. Can you tell me what happened, Noct?”

He coughs a little, tasting a petal on his tongue. Instead of spitting it up he chews and swallows it. It feels like spiders’ legs crawling down his throat. “It’s complicated. Promise you’ll listen?”

“Of course,” Regis says, but the anger in his eyes speaks differently.

Noct sighs. “He’s… you were right about his politics. He wants me to die so Lucis will lose its heir.” The words taste like ash on his tongue. His heart aches.

“So he’s using this to assassinate you. He probably planned this as far back as last year.” Noct doesn’t think so, but he keeps quiet. Regis stands and begins pacing. “This is a violation of the treaty.”

“Dad, I don’t think this counts.”

“He’s trying to kill you. It counts.”

Noct snaps the oxygen mask back on. After a moment, he takes it off again. “Can you send Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio in? I want to talk to them. Alone.”

If Regis is hurt from Noct sending him away, he doesn’t show it. He nods, goes to the door, and leaves. Noct slumps back against his pillow. At the very least, he thinks, the Council will stop his dad from declaring war over this. They’re good for that much.

The thing is, Noct knows his dad. He knows he loses reason when Noct is hurt, and he knows that in light of what’s happened, Regis isn’t going to let Noct handle the situation, not while he’s sick, even if he knows better. Noct twiddles his thumbs and tries not to cry until the door swings open and Prompto scrambles in, Ignis and Gladio following shortly behind.

He launches himself at Noct. His arms wrap tight around Noct’s chest, and he tries not to wince at the sudden burst of pain. “We were so worried! You okay?”

“Not really,” Noct says honestly. Ignis settles down at his side and takes his hand, while Gladio steeps in barely concealed fury. “I need your help with something.”

“Anything,” Ignis promises.

Noct tries to speak, but a flower chooses that moment to worm its way up his throat. It feels like the stems are growing longer, aching to burst out through his mouth and nose and use his face like a flowerpot. He coughs miserably and waits for the feeling to pass. “Ardyn’s the Accursed. He’s one of the Kings of Yore, too - he ruled two thousand years ago.”

Prompto and Gladio look at Noct in confused concern, but Ignis tightens his grip. “Is he the same king we researched the other day?”

“Yeah,” Noct says. “Look - he’s only doing this because he’s bitter enough over what happened to him to want to kill me. We have to find out what it was, and make it right.”

Prompto squirms where he’s sitting. “This is nuts. He’s, like, some sort of immortal?”

“An immortal with a grudge, too,” Gladio growls.

“Help me?” Noct asks, pleading. Ardyn’s rejection still stings, physically and emotionally, but in a way it’s relieving. He feels like a balloon has been popped inside his heart, and with the nerves and stress gone, he can think a little more clearly. Everything hurts, but he has a duty to perform. Maybe Ardyn doesn’t love him, but their soul bonds is still there. He can’t break it, no matter what he does. Noct just has to grab it and pull tight, and not let go for anything.

He also has to survive long enough to make it all work.

Ignis nods, Prompto smiles shakily, and Gladio sighs. “Of course, princess. We’re with you to the end of the line.”

The flowers shake in time to his breathing. “Good. Let’s get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> noct: could it be? am i in love?  
> ardyn: **i'm about to end this man's whole career**


	4. Pollen

The next few days are slow going. Noct gets sicker and sicker, and it’s hard for him to focus while his lungs spasm and seize. Ignis takes to keeping a vomit bucket next to his bedside, dutifully cleaning it after Noct hacks up flowers and blood. Gladio sleeps on the floor of his hospital room. Prompto and Ignis move into Noct’s old room in the Citadel. Noct barely sleeps anymore, kept awake by the pain. More often than not he ends up sniffling in bed, alone, trying to be quiet so he doesn’t wake Gladio up.

His dad doesn’t visit him. Clarus and Cor do, though, and even Captain Ulric drops by a few times to offer advice. He had Hanahaki once, long ago. He’d taken the surgical option and forgot all about the woman in question.

Surgery isn’t an option for Noct anymore. The roots are too deep. If they tried removing the plant, they’d end up taking most of his lungs with it.

Clarus is less than forthcoming about the current political situation, but Cor and Nyx are willing to talk. His dad has been cowing the Council for days, insisting they march on Niflheim. As Noct expected, they’re vetoing him at every turn. The King does not have the power to declare war without the Council’s approval, and for once their hatred of Noct is a good thing; they’re not willing to risk the nation for a crown prince they’ve never liked and have always been looking to replace.

Cor tells him one day, in his typical impassive manner, that the Council as a whole had suggested Regis visit his son. He had stormed out of the chamber and locked himself in his office for the rest of the day, taking care of paperwork.

It hurts, knowing that he was right. His dad _doesn’t_ have time for him, even when he’s dying - or rather, he doesn’t want to make time. The worst part of it is that Noct understands. He knows he’s all his dad has left, that he already almost lost him once, and with his death almost a given at this point his dad can’t bear to watch him wither away. Noct _gets it._

But it’s unfair. Noct has watched his dad deteriorate for years - has watched the Wall and the Glaive wear him down slowly. It’s been years since Noct, caught up in teenage feelings of doom and gloom, had avoided his dad. Once he got a little older and realized his dad needed him, he hadn’t shied away. He'd shut his mouth and kept the peace even while the Council refused to let his dad drop the Wall. He’d attended every Council meeting, watched every speech, supported his dad from the sidelines like a good son.

Maybe he’s selfish for imagining that it should work in reverse, too. After all, his dad had all but ignored him after he’d gotten home from Tenebrae, had avoided his physical therapy appointments and looked away on bad days when Noct had to use his wheelchair.

He should have seen this coming.

In the meantime, they work. They speak to historians, archeologists, and culture experts over the phone, arrange for books to be brought to the Citadel from all over Lucis. Noct reads over all the information they find, tries to piece it all together, requests more items from the archives be brought to him. He even asks them to bring Ardyn’s portrait. He sets it on his bedside table. Sometimes, Noct feels like more of a king than either him or his father; while they’re both stuck in the past, Noct is looking to the future.

It’s an odd mix of emotion. Sometimes Noct wants to chide both of them for their immaturity, and sometimes he wants to be held. Sometimes he just wants to die and be free of the pain.

In the end though, it all works out. They find little bits of information here and there; eventually, in a very ancient history book sent by one of Ignis’s contacts in Altissia, they learn that Ardyn’s younger brother was called _Somnus_. The name, meaning sleep, strikes Noctis as being undeniably linked to Insomnia. And, lo and behold, a call to a woman in Lestallum who specializes in the city’s history tells them that Somnus built it over the ruins of his home village. It had gone up in flames as the Starscourge spread.

It takes several calls to a history professor living in Tenebrae to determine that yes, Somnus had set those flames himself.

Ignis points out that even as recent as a few hundred years ago, fire was used as a way to clear sickness. A plague could be stopped in its tracks from burning bodies and, sometimes, the living who found themselves ill. The logic doesn’t make Noct any less squeamish about it, especially considering that Ardyn was apparently a _healer_ who was _beloved by the people._ He had thought at first the man must have been something like a doctor. The niggling thought that Luna and her mother before her could heal the Starscourge doesn’t leave him alone.

The confirmation of his suspicions comes in a letter to Luna, asking her to check her family’s records. She finds that once, roughly two thousand years ago, a woman of the Fleuret house had married a man of the Caelum house. After this, magical healing started to appear in their line.

She sends the book back with a parcel, containing a flower encased in amber. Says she found it in their old records. It’s white, with feathery petals and sharp leaves.

Of course, everything they learn is just speculation. Prompto is excited by the work, thinking of it as some sort of adventure, and while Gladio and Ignis are skeptical they trust Noct’s feelings about his own soulmate.

The more he reads, the more he thinks, the more the flowers grow. Sometimes the longing itself becomes a physical pain, worse than the flowers, and has him searching Niflheimr news networks for mentions of the Chancellor. Ardyn keeps a low profile, but when he does appear in pictures he always looks so amicable, so _fake_. It reminds Noct too much of their texts, and he winces as he reads them over again. So, so fake.

When he tries to text Ardyn again, he gets an automated message saying the number has been disconnected. He was a fool to have ever been taken in by those words.

He can’t just get over this, though. They’re soulmates. Their bond can’t be broken or altered. Noct has fallen in love, and he’s never going to fall out of it, so he eats his feelings and marches on.

-=*=-

Two weeks have passed by the time they're ready. Noct could probably do with more research, but he doesn’t have the time. It’s getting harder to breathe, his lungs no longer able to inflate and deflate as much as they should. The cuts inside his throat spill blood down into his lungs. The only good part about _that_ disgusting mess is that the plant drinks his blood, uses it like water, so at least he doesn’t have to worry about drowning in it.

Noct manages to stand long enough to get dressed, but the motions have him swaying on his feet, gasping for air.

“Perhaps this is a bad idea,” Ignis says worriedly, pressing a hand to Noct’s back.

Noct grins tiredly. “Come on, it’s not the _worst_ idea I’ve ever had.”

“Of course it isn’t. Remember the time you suggested we put on drag to sneak into a nightclub unrecognized?” Gladio murmurs from his place at the door. “Alright, it’s clear. We’ve gotta go now.”

Noct follows Ignis and Prompto out of the room. Gladio runs out ahead of them, checking for guards and nurses. Every step has Noct coughing and wheezing, the leaves swaying inside his lungs and scratching at his flesh. He stumbles, falling to the side. Ignis grabs his arm to steady him.

“This would be easier if you would use the wheelchair,” he says.

“Well, I don’t want to,” Noct mumbles.

Prompto doesn’t listen. He hasn’t been using the Armiger long, but he’s good enough to pull the wheelchair out. “It’ll be faster if you let us push you. Come on, Noct.”

He glares at the metal chair for a minute before grumbling and sitting down. Immediately he feels better.

With Ignis pushing him, they make better time. They make it all the way to the garage before they get caught.

Nyx steps out of the shadows cast by the bright lights, his Glaive training making him silent and undetectable even to Gladio. Noct stiffens. His Audi is between them and the Captain. He flexes his hand around the blue imprint of a weapon, ready to warp to the car if need be.

Nyx smiles and kneels in front of his chair. “His Majesty has set up additional security, little prince.” He sets a card on Noct’s leg. “Use my I.D. instead of yours to get out of the city. It won’t trip off any alarms.”

“Thanks,” Noct says. “Why…?”

Nyx ruffles his hair. “I’m a royalist through and through, Your Highness. I’m not going to watch you waste away in a hospital bed if I can help it.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Ignis says. “We are in your debt.”

Nyx helps them navigate around the Crownsguard, telling them which paths they need to take to intersect with the Glaive’s security details instead. In the end, they make it out of the city without a snag. They’ll be all over the security tapes the next morning, of course, but the point is to not get caught _now._ Noct doesn’t care if his dad gets wind of their escape tomorrow morning. By then, hopefully, they’ll be past Galdin Quay and on their way to Niflheim.

They’ll have to pass through Tenebrae on the way. Luna is waiting for them at her family’s manor, having been warned by Noct several days ago. She’s anxious to see him. Umbra has been carrying the notebook almost every day for the past week, Luna’s words always asking after him and recommending different teas and herbs to help him sleep. With each suggestion, Ignis had found the items and prepared them, and Gladio and Prompto took great joy in forcing Noct to try them even when he was nauseous and not in the mood for tea.

It’s nice to have people he thinks of as family worry after him.

He spends most of the drive sleeping, only woken occasionally by the stabbing pains in his chest. The Audi’s vibrations are enough to lull him back under after each coughing fit, and he sleeps better than he had in his hospital bed. They’d picked up some unusually bright headlights from a friendly mechanic at Hammerhead, so there’s no chance of any daemons attacking them.

The beasts still leer at them from the edges of the road. Bombs glow like neon signs in the darkness, a tonberry’s lantern glints, an iron giant claws its way out of the earth. Knowing what he knows about Ardyn, Noct can’t help but feel a sense of bond with the creatures. They’re tied to the Accursed, just like he is. He wonders if any of them have ever died for Ardyn.

He wonders if any of them have ever made Ardyn _feel_ something.

-=*=-

They make it through Altissia and are on their way to Tenebrae when Noct gets a call from his dad.

He uses his wheelchair as sparingly as possible, trying to keep up at least the appearance of health, so when his phone chirps with the call Noct waves Ignis away and retreats to the ferry deck, alone, to sit down and answer it. It’s just after dawn, the sun spilling a beautiful array of colors out over the sea, and Noct tries not to look at the early morning sky and think about how much it reminds him of Ardyn.

He answers the phone with a nervous “hey, Dad.”

_“Noctis Lucis Caelum, you will return home this instant.”_

Noct tries for a laugh, but comes up with a cough instead. “Sorry, Dad. I can’t do that.”

_“If you are not on your way home by the time I end this call, I am sending the Glaive after you.”_

Nyx’s voice during their departure - “best of luck, Your Highness!” - comes to mind. “I don’t think you'll have much luck with them.”

_“Noctis, you’re sick. You can’t be doing this.”_

“The fact that I’m sick is why I _have_ to do this,” Noct says. “Dad, you have to trust me. Everything will be alright.”

_“Everything is not alright,”_ Regis says. The wetness in his voice is telling - he’s close to crying. _“Noct, son, I can’t lose you.”_

“You won’t,” Noct tries to promise. “Look, I’ll - I’ll be back soon, yeah? I’ll go knock some sense into Ardyn, and then I’ll come home.”

There’s a long moment of silence. _“I’d rather you be home, when - when it happens.”_

“You weren’t at my bedside before,” Noct points out. “Dad, please. It’ll be okay. Just let me handle this.”

_“...very well. I’ll leave everything in your hands. I only ask that you call me every night. And tell Ignis to call immediately should anything… happen.”_

“I will,” Noct says. He hangs up afterwards, not because he wants to, but because he can’t keep speaking with the flowers choking his throat.

He stays out on deck for a while afterwards, watching the ocean. On any other day, he’d love to fish in it. Right now they can’t risk stopping for anything. Noct scratches at his chest through his t-shirt. He should be more surprised his dad is tip-toeing around his imminent death; as royals, the death of their loved ones is constantly on their minds. Growing up, Noct would think about his father’s death every time anyone spoke about his future. It’s just something they have to deal with.

Maybe it’s okay to tip-toe around it sometimes, though. Maybe there are things in this world that are too painful to face head-on, and it’s alright to step gently around those things. To walk on eggshells.

Maybe, Noct realizes, his eyes widening, that’s what Ardyn is doing. Tip-toeing around the issue, because it’s too painful to face. Covering up pain with malice. Maybe it just hurts so much he turns that hurt into hate so it’s easier to deal with.

Maybe Noct has a chance after all.

The rest of the ferry ride is uneventful, and before they know it they’re at the border with Tenebrae, waiting to board the train. They’re almost turned away - Tenebrae is technically still under Imperial rule, and visiting Lucian royals require special permissions - but Prompto pulls the guard aside. After only a few minutes, they’re waved in with hardly a second glance.

“What was that about?” Noct asks as they search for four unoccupied seats.

Prompto clears his throat nervously. “I… may or may not be the estranged son of a powerful scientist-politician-guy in Niflheim.”

“No joke,” Gladio says.

“Nope.” Prompto shifts from foot to foot. His face is almost as pale as Noct’s. “Sorry for not, uh, telling you -”

“Prompto, it’s fine,” Ignis says, cutting him off before he can spiral into a fit of unnecessary apologies. “You’ve just made it much easier for us to help Noct. Thank you.”

Prompto beams.

By the time they find an empty booth, Noct is close to passing out. He collapses into the seat, wheezing and hacking. Ignis produces the vomit bucket and sets it on the table in front of him, and Noct spends the next few minutes buried in it, coughing up flower after flower.

By the time the fit has passed, Noct is teary eyed and shaking slightly. Gladio runs a hand up and down his back. When he’s finally done, Noct glares down at the flowers through teary eyes.

_I’ve had worse,_ he thinks. _I can do this. I’ve had_ worse.

-=*=-

They reach Tenebrae a day later. Noct has been getting sleepy lately, which is probably a bad thing given how close he is to dying. It’s better than not being able to sleep at all, though, and at least he can’t feel the flowers when he’s passed out.

Fenestala Manor is as beautiful as Noct remembers; white and purple and covered in sylleblossoms. He walks slowly, taking in the majesty of Tenebrae. It’s all misty fields and floating bits of earth connected by rock bridges. Prompto _oohs_ and _aahs_ at everything, snapping photo after photo. Ignis and Gladio stay close to Noct’s side, ready to grab him if he swoons and falls again.

They barely make it ten feet from the train platform before Pryna and Umbra are bounding up to them.

“Pryna!” Prompto shouts. The white dog yips at him, twisting her body around in excited circles. Noct pats Umbra on the head. He whines, only slightly more dignified than his sister, and turns to lead the royal procession to the manor.

Thankfully, there are no servants waiting to announce their presence or offer to take their coats. There’s only Luna, who rushes from the manor’s door the moment she sees them. Gentiana lingers behind her. From the shadows just inside the house Noct catches sight of Ravus.

He swallows nervously. Fantastic.

Luna’s hands are on his face immediately once she’s in range. “Noctis, are you feeling alright? Do you need to sit down? Shall I fetch you some tea?”

“I think I’ve drank enough tea in the past two weeks for a lifetime,” Noct says. “Sitting down sounds nice, though.”

“Of course. Here, I’ll help you - oh dear, you’re shaking! Shouldn’t you be in a wheelchair?” She takes his arm from Gladio and pulls him gently towards the manor.

“He has one, but is stubbornly refusing to use it,” Ignis says.

Luna bites her lip. Her eyes have heavy bags under them, and her hair is slightly out of place. Noct feels guilty when he realizes how much he must have been worrying her. “Noctis, please. You must be easier on yourself.”

“I can relax when I’m dead,” Noct jokes. Luna winces. Gladio slaps a hand to his face. “Sorry. Too soon?”

“Too soon,” Luna agrees.

They make it through the foyer and into a small sitting room with little trouble. Gentiana remains outside, but Ravus follows them in. He stands behind Luna as Gladio stands behind Noct, both protectors glaring at each other like they’re ready to start a fight while surrounded by antique furniture and expensive china. Within seconds of everyone getting settled, a maid comes in with a platter of small sandwiches and a water pitcher.

“Here,” Luna says, pushing a glass towards Noct. “You have to remain hydrated.”

“Thanks, Luna.” Noct takes it even though he doesn’t feel like drinking right now.

He takes his time while Luna belatedly greets his retainers. When her eyes fall on Prompto, she lights up. “Mr. Argentum, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Prompto flushes. Noct holds back a snicker to avoid embarrassing him. “Likewise, Lady Lunafreya! And you can call me Prompto. Or Prom. If you want.”

“Then I shall,” Luna says sweetly. “Thank you for helping to escort Noctis here, Prompto.” She turns back to Noct. “Are you sure you’re well enough to go on?”

“I don’t have much of a choice,” Noct says. “I mean, Ardyn isn’t going to come to me.”

“Yes, but still…” Luna says, fretting. She glances between the four of them, still worrying her lip between her teeth. “Niflheim is completely under the Chancellor’s control. I’m concerned as to whether he’ll even allow you in the country, let alone into Gralea.”

“Is it safe?” Gladio asks.

Luna nods. “For the most part. There’s less political unrest than there was when the Emperor was alive. As far as I can tell, people generally prefer the Chancellor. He’s more conscious of their needs.”

“I mean,” Noct murmurs, “he was a King, once. He’s got experience in ruling.”

“And in treachery,” Ravus says bluntly. “This is a fool’s errand. He’ll never see you.”

“There must be a way,” Ignis says. “We cannot simply _give up._ Noct’s life is on the line.”

Ravus pauses to think. As the High Commander, Noct knows he must have at least _some_ sway with the Chancellor. They’ve never gotten along, but he desperately hopes Ravus won't leave him to die when he could potentially help.

“Brother,” Luna says gently.

Ravus sighs. “There are a few people who have Chancellor Izunia’s ear. If you were to contact them, they might be able to arrange a meeting. The Chancellor is a fan of entertaining people’s silly delusions.”

Noct ignores that last pointed remark. “Like Aranea and Verstael?” He can’t help but notice how Prompto stiffens at his side.

Ravus’s eyes narrow. “Highwind and Besithia. How do you know those names?”

“Ardyn told me about them,” Noct says. “Prom? What’s up?”

“Verstael Besithia.” Prompto forces out the name like it’s causing him pain. “That’s my biological father’s name.”

“In that case, it would do you all good to contact him,” Ravus says. He turns away to face the door. “Verstael Besithia is the closest thing Izunia has to a friend. If he suggests the man meet you, I doubt he’d refuse.”

Prompto nods wordlessly. Luna tries to placate him with a hand on his arm, but Noct can see the nervous cogs turning in his head.

It’s several hours before they make it back to their room and settle down for the night. Prompto busies himself with smoothing down their bed - they requested to be put up in the same room - and marveling at the opulence of Fenestala Manor. Unlike the cold stone of the Citadel, covered in black curtains and paintings of stern looking kings and queens, the home of Tenebrae’s royals is light and airy, covered in shades of white and blue. The tile is polished to a reflective shine; it’s cold under Noct’s feet. He pokes Prompto’s cheek, startling him.

“Have you met him?” Noct asks.

“No,” Prompto admits. “I’m kind of, like, an experiment of his.”

Noct can already feel keen distaste for Prompto’s biological father seeping in, and can see the same on Ignis and Gladio’s faces.

“An experiment?” Ignis prompts.

“About nature versus nurture,” Prompto says. “He wanted to see if I’d end up anything like him if I was raised by someone else. He called a few years ago, asking permission to do a full personality index. Said that my birth was a mistake, but if I participated in his study I’d be worth something.” He clears his throat. “I refused. I kind of ignored him after that, but I know he was angry.”

“He sounds like a dick,” Gladio says. “We’ve got your back, Prom. He tries to guilt trip you or anything, and we’ll knock him on his ass.”

“Thanks,” Prompto says.

They snuggle down into bed. Noct takes one of the ends so he can easily curl over the edge and spit flowers up into his bucket. He’s almost passed out when he groans, throwing a hand over his eyes.

“What’s wrong, Noct?” Ignis asks, his voice full of alarm.

“Relax, Iggy, I’m fine. I just forgot to call Dad.” He should do it now, but he’s too tired to move. His limbs feel like lead. Maybe traveling in this state _wasn’t_ such a good idea; he feels more than half dead already.

Prompto leans over him and snatches up his phone. A few moments later he sets it next to Noct’s face on the pillow, already buzzing with an outgoing call.

His dad answers almost immediately. _“Noct? Are you there?”_

Noct yawns. “I’m here.”

_“Thank the gods. I expected your call an hour ago.”_

“Sorry, I was distracted. We’re at Luna’s place.” His head feels foggy. He doesn’t think he should be suffering oxygen deprivation yet, but who knows? He’d refused to let the nurse order any more x-rays. He could already feel the plant growing in his lungs; he didn’t need visual confirmation, too. “We’re going to try and get Ardyn to see us tomorrow.”

_“Alright. Please call me if you need help with anything. I might be able to force him to meet with you for some diplomatic reason or other.”_

“I don’t think that’s gonna work. Niflheim and Lucis aren’t on great terms right now, even with the peace treaty.” He yawns again. “Besides, Prom’s got us covered. We’ll be fine.”

_“I see,”_ his dad says. Noct isn’t surprised he doesn’t ask _how_ Prompto has them covered. No doubt the Crownsguard did a full background check on him the minute they became friends. His dad probably already knows exactly who Prompto’s father is. Noct considers using that fact as another excuse to be angry, but decides against it. He’s tired of being angry. Besides that it’s none of his business where Prompto was born. They’re friends no matter what. _“Are you feeling alright?”_

“I’m decent,” Noct says. “Look, I’m really tired. Can I just call you back tomorrow morning?”

_“Of course. Good night, son.”_

Noct hangs up. He tries to put the phone back on the nightstand, but ends up dropping it instead. He coughs miserably, trying not to whimper at the pain.

“You sure we can’t give him any pain meds?” Prompto asks.

“The source of the pain is magical in nature. Medication could provide some relief, but it won’t be much,” Ignis says.

“Yeah. It was the same after the Marilith, until Luna’s mom healed the Scourge,” Noct groans. He shifts further back on the bed. Prompto circles his arms around him, pulling him close. The last time he was in Fenestala, staying in one of these rooms, he had been sick and unbearably afraid with only Luna - at that time a stranger - for company. Now, here with his closest friends and his favorite pen-pal only a few rooms away, he feels far less alone than he did then. “Thanks for doing this with me, guys. It means a lot.”

“We wouldn’t be anywhere else, Noct,” Gladio says warmly. “We stick toether, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Prompto says.

Ignis chuckles. Noct can hear the smile in his voice. “You know, it’s going to be rather difficult for us to sleep together like this when you’re happily married.”

Noct flushes. The butterflies are back, he realizes with a shock - he hasn’t felt that pleasant nervous anticipation since before Ardyn rejected him. “We’ll just invite him along. I’m sure we can find a bed big enough.”

“Dude, I’m not sure I want to be there on your wedding night,” Prompto says.

Noct blushes even darker. “Prom!”

“He’s got a point,” Gladio says. “I know you like the guy, but I’m not fond of the idea of seeing the Imperial Chancellor naked.”

“Not you too!” Noct buries his face in the pillow. Despite the thrum of pain in his chest from the flowers responding to his building feelings, he’s grinning. “Iggy, help me out here.”

“I must agree with Prompto and Gladio,” Ignis says. “Kindly keep from inviting us into your marriage bed.”

“Gods, shut up!”

Thankfully, his friends’ laughter keeps them from commenting further on his unfortunate choice of words. Noct manages a few blissful moments of silence, before Gladio breaks it with “on second thought, though, he _is_ kind of hot…”

“Yeah - like, roguish, you know?”

“I agree. His attitude is rather poor, but those eyes are quite an intriguing color -”

“I’ll exile all of you,” Noct swears.

For the first time in weeks, he falls asleep happy.

-=*=-

Noct calls his dad in the morning. He’s in the Manor’s gardens at Luna’s suggestion, enjoying the crisp morning air. The one good thing about Hanahaki is that while he’s always sleepy, he wakes up early every morning to hack up more flowers. No one can tease him for sleeping in anymore.

Luna and Prompto are playing with Umbra and Pryna, while Ignis, Gladio, and Ravus are aggressively trying to one-up each other in a three-person spar. Noct watches them, wishing he was strong enough to join, while he calls his dad.

Regis answers. He’s been good at doing that ever since Noct ran away. _“Noct. How are you feeling this morning?”_

“Not worse,” Noct answers. It’s the best he can give. “Prompto emailed his biological father’s office earlier. We’ll head out once we get an answer.”

_“Besithia,”_ his dad mutters. _“If he attempts to coerce Prompto into doing him a favor for helping you, call me immediately. I’ll figure out something for you.”_

His suspicions are confirmed. “Thanks, Dad,” Noct says. “I feel really bad for Prom, though. I mean, his foster father is never around and his biological father sounds like a dick.”

_“Son,”_ Regis chides.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Not fitting language for a prince.” Noct sighs. “I don’t know. I want to do something for him, but…”

_“All you can do is be there for him,”_ his dad says. _“Support him, regardless of what happens.”_

“Of course I will. You don’t need to tell me that,” Noct says. He’s distracted by Gentiana appearing behind him. She sets a laptop on the table in front of him, then is gone as quickly as she came.

_“I know I don’t. You’ve always been a compassionate person. I couldn’t ask for a better son.”_

Noct doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s like a shot straight to his heart. “Come on. You don’t mean that.”

_“I do. I’m so very proud of you, Noct. Please remember that.”_

Noct feels like he could cry, but in his opinion he’s done that far too much recently. Instead he revels in the warm feeling he’s been chasing after for as long as he can remember; the knowledge that he’s made his dad proud of him, that he’s been a worthy son. It calms the worried panic of his thoughts. More than ever, he knows he’s done the right thing, made the right choices. He feels like he’s finally growing up - both in his dad’s eyes, and in his own. “Will do. Love you.”

After he hangs up, he takes the laptop. There’s an email on it, addressed to Prompto, sent from the Niflheimr Science Institute. The sender’s name is _V. Besithia._

Noct steadies his breathing and makes his way over to where Prompto is giving Pryna a belly rub.

They all settle around while Prompto reads. Immediately his expression falls. “He’s willing to contact Ardyn for us if I agree to participate in his study.”

“Fuck that,” Gladio says.

Noct can see the cogs turning in Prompto’s head. He doesn’t like the defeated look that passes over his friend’s face. “Maybe I should. I mean, we need his help, right?”

“Absolutely not,” Noct says. “You’re not some sort of lab experiment, Prom. He can’t treat you like one.”

“No offense, Noct, but I kind of _am_ a lab experiment.”

Before Noct can reply, there’s a phone being shoved in Prompto’s face, already dialing. “You’re all pathetic,” Ravus says. “I wasn’t planning on lifting a finger for any of you, but clearly you’ll get nowhere without assistance. Typical of a bunch of pampered Lucian brats.”

Luna clasps her hands together and looks up at Ravus with a smile. “I knew you still had some compassion left in your heart.”

“Believe that if you must,” Ravus says, and leaves them with the phone.

Verstael Besithia picks up on the fourth ring. _“Besithia speaking.”_

“Hey, um. Dad?” Prompto says.

_“Ah, the little bastard. How did you get this number? Nevermind, that’s unimportant. Have you considered my offer?”_ he asks. There’s background noise; typing on a computer, erratic beeping, the murmurs of lab assistants.

“Prompto will not be playing lab rat for you,” Ignis says when Prompto fails to respond.

_“Then why are you wasting my time?”_ Verstael asks. Noct can’t find a shred of resemblance in the way he speaks. Prompto could never be so casually dismissive and cruel.

He opens his mouth to tell the guy off, but Prompto suddenly snaps - or maybe it’s not sudden, with the way his eyes have been watering since he read the email Prompto’s an angry crier, and with his face flushed red and tears tracking down his cheeks he’s angrier now than Noct has ever seen him. “We’re wasting your oh-so-precious time because the Prince of Lucis, my _best friend_ , is dying, you asshole! So you’re going to call up your shitty friend and tell him to come meet his soulmate, or by the gods I will bust down the door of your _stupid_ lab and shoot you in the dick, so you never have any more children to mess with.”

There’s a moment of pause. Even the assistants hush up, probably having heard Prompto’s outburst through the phone. Noct glances over at Gladio and Ignis, who are both staring at Prompto like deer in headlights. Luna is trying not to smile. The moment breaks when Verstael laughs.

_“Well, I believe that confirms my hypothesis. Nurture_ is _more important than nature. I would never make such uncouth threats.”_ There’s more tapping. _“I’ll arrange for an appointment with Ardyn tomorrow. If you can make it to Gralea by then, you’ll be welcomed into our beautiful country with open arms. Good day, son.”_

He hangs up. Prompto glares at the phone. “I’m not your son.”

Noct rubs his shoulder until his sniffling stops. “Thanks, Prom. Really, thank you.”

“I guess that settles it. Off to Gralea we go,” Ignis says.

“You should take the overnight train,” Luna says. “It’ll leave later this evening. You can have dinner here before you go.”

Noct is struck with an awful thought, then; no matter how confident he pretends to be, it’s entirely possible Ardyn is too far gone to care about what he has to say. All of their preparation could be for nothing. He could very easily die tomorrow; this could be his last dinner. “Can Ignis cook?”

“If the Lady is willing to give me free reign of the kitchens for the evening, I’d be happy to,” Ignis says. “Shall I make pastries?”

“Please,” Noct says.

“I’m excited to try your cooking, Ignis,” Luna says. She stands. Everyone but Prompto and Noct follows her. “I’ve heard many wonderful things.”

“I hope to please.”

Noct watches them head back to the Manor. He waves them off when they turn back to look. He settles back onto the ground, idly picking at the grass between his fingers.

Prom shuffles closer to him. “You alright, Noct?”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says. “Without any of you. I don’t think I’d have survived this without you guys.” He rubs at his eyes. “Just… I know I keep saying it, but thank you.”

Prompto stares at the ground. He leans into Noct’s side. “You’re a catch, Noct. If he rejects you again, he’s the stupidest guy in Eos.”

“To be fair,” Noct says, “I think we’re both pretty stupid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's not important, but i want to make it known that verstael in this fic is hot young verstael, because i said so.  
> also, the number of chapters has been updated to five! one more to go :) i'm still not happy with this chapter since i feel like it's too much filler, but in the end this stuff had to happen or ch.5 wouldn't make sense. also, i know the subplot with vers and prom is super shoehorned in, but my brain decided it had to be there and i liked it too much to cut it. whoops?


	5. Fruit

Ravus arranges for them to leave on another train the next morning, free of charge. As they get ready to leave the manor, Noct sits in the foyer and stews in burning anticipation. He takes out his phone and tries to text Ardyn for the third time that morning. Still disconnected.

Luna comes by with a bag of fresh clothes, all fleece and wool. Niflheim is much colder than any other place in Eos, so they’ll need them. She passes the coats over to Ignis, then turns to Noct to hand him the book.

“Please write to me after you meet him,” Luna says.

Noct tries for a reassuring smile. He wants to project as much confidence as he can. He’s over worrying her endlessly. “Will do.”

His conviction shatters into a million pieces when he tries to stand and immediately collapses. Gladio is at his side in a second, but the movement has already done its harm; Noct gags as a gush of blood fills his throat, metallic on his tongue, and he claws at his throat.

“Easy, princess, easy,” Gladio murmurs. “Just breathe. Relax, and breathe.”

“Easy for… you to say,” Noct wheezes. “Shit. It hurts.”

“I know.”

Tears build up in his eyes. “It hurts. It _hurts._ ” Noct folds his hands into fists. “That _asshole._ Where does he get off on doing this to me? I’m gonna kill him.”

“Kill him after you coax him into confessing, please,” Ignis says, wiping the blood off his lips with a handkerchief. “Unfortunately, we need him alive for this.”

The heavy footfalls of military boots signal Ravus’s presence. Noct struggles to his feet, leaning against Gladio. Ravus pointedly looks away; Noct silently thanks him for preserving what remains of his dignity. “We’re ready to depart whenever His Royal Highness is ready.”

“Write me,” Luna repeats, matching Noct’s eyes with her own.

“Don’t worry, Luna,” Noct says. “Everything will be fine.”

The air is warm as they make their way to the train. Noct physically doesn’t have the energy to walk anymore, so he sucks it up and lets Ignis push him. The train station looks more brilliant in the morning, the rising sun lighting it up with blinding abandon. Noct stares at the sky. This time, he freely thinks about Ardyn.

Stupid thoughts pass through his head. It’s tradition for each Lucian monarch and their consort to have a special title specifically crafted for them. His dad is called _Protector of the Light_ , and his mother was _Beloved of the Seas._ Both references to their homes - Insomnia and Cape Caem. Noct thinks he’d like to have a day/night theme for his and Ardyn’s titles. Something to do with the sky. Maybe _King of Dawn_ for Ardyn and _King of Dusk_ for him?

The idea has his face burning. He desperately tries to hide it, but he’s sure everyone notices.

The train ride goes by fast. The landscape outside the windows becomes more desolate as they pass through Tenebrae and reach Niflheim. By the time they’re halfway to Gralea, it’s an endless array of tundra, all white glittering snow and sleek ice. It takes Noct’s breath away. There’s snow in Insomnia, sure, but nothing like this. Nothing so permanent, so beautiful. He’ll have to ask to stop on their way back so Prompto can take pictures.

He notices that he’s starting to think in those terms - like it’s a given that he’ll have a future. It seems contrary to the fact that his body is slowly but surely shutting down. Maybe it’s just because everything has been going so _well._ He’s still not one hundred percent clear on what happened to Ardyn, but he knows enough to start a conversation. They’ve made it this far, too. Even Ravus is supporting him. It hurts too much to think he’ll fail after all this, after everyone has worked so hard, so he refuses to consider the possibility.

They’re greeted at the edge of Gralea by a contingent of guardsmen, who guide them into the thankfully indoor train station with barely concealed curiosity, and a dead behemoth. Noct cringes at it. It’s a mockery of their past conversations; Noct clearly understands its message. _Give up now, foolish boy. You’ll gain nothing from this._

It’s a good thing he hasn’t been very obedient lately. Or ever.

Gralea has a wall similar to Insomnia’s, but it’s built out of iron instead of magic. It only reaches half the height of the tallest skyscrapers. Noct can look up easier since he’s sitting down, but the others have to crane their necks back to stare. They all look like tourists, but no one could blame them given how utterly alien Gralea is; it’s a metal fortress in a cold desert. How could anyone not be intimidated by it?

Ravus talks with the guards, then beckons them toward a massive gate beyond the warmth of the station. It groans as it swings through the snow piling up around it. Noct folds his arms around his chest and shivers as Ignis pushes him across the icy walkway.

“Besithia still wants to talk to you,” Ravus says to Prompto, once they’re almost through the wall. “Some nonsense about an intelligence test.”

“No thank you,” Prompto grumbles.

“Fair choice. That man is as mad as scientists can get.”

The guards step aside to let them through, guns aimed at the ground. Noct pushes Ignis’s hands away and wheels himself forward, determined to enter the city of his ancestral enemies under his own strength.

Ravus sticks a foot under one wheel. Noct nearly tips over. He glares up at him.

“If you die,” Ravus says, “my sister will be deeply saddened.”

“I won’t die,” Noct says. “Tell Luna that Ardyn and I will visit after we’re done here. She can officiate the wedding if she wants.”

He removes his foot. “Imbecile.”

They don’t stay out in the cold for long. They’re inside a warm, metal building within minutes, but Noct swears he can still feel ice forming in his hair. The soldiers gather them in some sort of elevator, but the thing is so silent and still Noct isn’t even sure they’re moving. It takes a while, but eventually the walls of the elevator become transparent glass, and Noct can see the city splayed out beneath them as they go up, up, up.

“Woah,” Gladio says nervously. “Where the hell are we going?”

“The 200th story of the main government building,” one of the soldiers replies. “That is where the Chancellor hosts visitors of the state.”

“Where does he host personal visitors?” Ignis asks.

“In his estate, typically.”

Noct can’t be bothered to care about the nuance. He wheels his way up to Gladio’s side, looking out over the city. They’re already so high up he can’t see the people; only gray buildings, yellow lights, and paths of snow clad sidewalks and roads. He settles a hand on Gladio’s wrist and squeezes. “This is crazy. How did you build all this?”

“The Chancellor was instrumental in providing the logistics for building at this height and level of scientific advancement,” the same soldier says with pride.

“An architect too, huh?” Noct wonders. “Go figure.” It’s certainly nothing like Insomnia. He sees no massive sculptures, no winding roads; Gralea is all geometric shapes and the shocking contrast of metal against snow. Maybe Ardyn intentionally designed it to be the polar opposite of the city his brother built.

Somehow they make it to the top without Gladio passing out from fear. The soldiers who escorted them on the way up are replaced with another group. Niflheim’s government building is dry and bland - no tapestries, no artwork. There aren’t even any rugs. Just long, boring hallways and people clad in monotonous grey uniforms.

“This all used to be the late Emperor's palace, yes?” Ignis asks.

“Correct. He died five years ago,” Ravus says, “without any heirs. There were rumors of a granddaughter, but she vanished. The Chancellor took over to prevent chaos from sweeping through the empire.” He spits the last sentence, as if it pains him to say it.

“You don’t seem particularly thankful,” Ignis says carefully.

“The man has his own agenda,” Ravus replies, and doesn’t elaborate.

The door opens to what probably used to be the emperor’s throne room. Now, it’s been shed of all its splendor, with only a long meeting table sitting in the middle with a black leather chair at its head.

Ardyn sits there, looking amused.

“My, my,” he says. “Prince Noctis. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Noct has no idea what to say. He coughs pathetically. He imagines the flowers finally exploding and killing him right there, to Ardyn’s satisfaction.

“If you’ve nothing to say, I’m afraid I’ll have to send you back to Lucis,” Ardyn says, turning back to a pile of paperwork on the table. “I’m busy, you see?”

“Too busy for your soulmate?” Noct wheezes.

“Indeed.”

For several long moments, the sound of Ardyn’s pen scribbling is the only noise in the room. Noct can feel his retainers simmering. They want to jump in and help, but they also want to let Noct handle the situation on his own. He tries to think. It’s hard to figure out what to do now that he’s actually here. He might’ve been better off expecting the worst after all.

He settles on “I’m dying.”

“Well, yes. That was rather the point.”

“Don’t you want to watch it?” That gets Ardyn’s attention. He looks up only slightly, his eyes flickering to Noct’s for the briefest moment before looking back down again. “I don’t have much time left. I’m sure you could fit it into your schedule.”

“I suppose,” Ardyn says. The hesitation is just unexpected enough to convince Noct it’s real.

“We’ll need somewhere to stay,” he prompts. “I can’t just follow you around all day like a lovesick puppy.”

Ardyn snickers. “What a sight that would be. Very well, I’ll have five rooms set up for you.”

“We only need one,” Noct says, “with a really big bed.”

That gets the biggest reaction yet. Ardyn looks at him sharply, a slight narrowing to his eyes, the hint of a snarl on his lips. It’s almost possessive. It’s the first hint Noct has ever had that Ardyn might take their soul bond somewhat seriously.

He decides to push it. “And soundproof walls, please. Unless you’d like to listen.”

Prompto makes a noise that sounds like a mix between a laugh and a cough. Noct hopes he isn’t grinning too obviously.

“Whatever His Majesty wishes,” Ardyn says with false pleasantry.

“Great,” Noct says. “I’ll see you whenever.”

-=*=-

“ _Soundproof walls!_ ” Prompto wheezes later, once they’ve gotten their room. Ignis is idly brushing through Noct's hair, helping him get ready for dinner. Prompto has periodically, over the last few hours, broken down over Noct’s _insinuations._ As if they hadn’t been joking about crashing him and Ardyn’s wedding night literally yesterday.

“Want me to come to dinner with you, Noct?” Gladio asks. He picks Prompto up off the floor and holds him bridal style. Prompto flops over like a rag doll, still laughing. “I could carry you in like this. We could play it off _The Queen of Hearts_ style.”

“Oh my gods, that’s like, the worst novel in your library,” Noct laughs.

“I don’t know about that,” Ignis says. “I liked the part where the Queen fainted upon seeing her ex lover at court, fell down and broke her ankle, and spent the next two months in a hospital bed being cared for by her attractive but cold doctor.”

“You would like that part,” Noct says. “You’re just like the doctor, so you can relate to it.”

Gladio dumps Prompto on the bed. “Yeah. The whole section is an exact transcript of what you and Iggy sound like when he’s babying you. _Oh, doctor, I am in ever so much pain! Please, heal me with your love._ ”

“I have never sounded like that,” Noct says, offended.

“Dude, you’re going to sound exactly like that in thirty minutes,” Prompto says.

Noct’s smile falters. He pushes Ignis’s hands away from his hair. “Yeah, you’re right. We should get going now. Better to be early than to be late, right?”

Prompto’s face falls. Noct boops his nose before he can apologize, to show no hard feelings. This situation sucks, and has sucked for weeks. Noct isn’t going to start crying just because Prompto made a dumb joke about it.

Ignis quickly finishes Noct’s hair and grabs his wheelchair. Noct really doesn’t want to get up; the pillows and soft bedspread are calling to him, but he can sleep later.

Dinner had been arranged two hours ago, the invitation provided by a terrified looking soldier. Ravus had arrived not thirty minutes later and informed them that Ardyn had been raging at his underlings ever since Noct had greeted him. Noct’s heart skipped a beat at the news. He feels like the soul thread is turning into a physical thing, burning into the soft flesh of his finger. He thinks, armed with his knowledge of Ardyn’s past, their soul bond, and this new unexpected jealousy, he has all the weapons he needs to take Ardyn down.

But maybe that’s just him taking the confidence tower-of-terror again. He gets his hopes up, then gets them dashed. It seems like it’s all he does these days.

They’re met by a small escort outside their room and are taken to the dining hall without much fanfare. Noct tries to straighten out his t-shirt and cargo pants, making them look as decent as possible. When they arrive at the door, a soldier opens it and gestures for Noct to wheel himself through. When Gladio tries to follow, she bars him with a sheathed sword.

“The Imperial Chancellor only wants to see the prince,” she says.

Noct pats Ignis’s hand. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“We’ll be right outside,” Gladio says.

The situation is achingly familiar. It seems a lifetime ago that Noct had gone to meet Ardyn face to face with wide, hopeful eyes. This time, when he rolls in and spots his soulmate sitting down at a small table, bathed in romantic lighting, he doesn't heave over coughing. He doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t _feel_ anything.

He thinks he sees irritation on Ardyn’s face.

They eat dinner in effective silence. Occasionally Ardyn asks after Noct’s father, or his health, and Noct puts on his best disinterested face while he answers. He forces the flowers and blood down. His Hanahaki is surprisingly calm; the moon’s tears tickle his lungs, but they don’t slash like they normally do. It’s easier to ignore them. Noct glances up at Ardyn and demurely pats the edges of his mouth with a napkin, curls his tongue around a forkful of streak. Ardyn’s grip on his fork tightens.

Noct can guess what Ardyn’s up to; he’s trying to make Noct suffer more by playing out this fantasy, hoping it’ll make his fondness worse. Well, Noct isn’t falling for it. He doesn’t want false pleasantries and fake flirting exchanged over a dinner table. He wants Ardyn to be who he is. He wants the truth. So this whole thing right now? This charade? It means nothing.

The daemon sitting in front of him is not the man he’s been imaging a future with. He’s going to do everything in his power to make that man appear.

Noct takes a sip of water. “Well, I think I’m done. If you’ll be so kind as to excuse me, Chancellor?”

Ardyn smiles, but his darkened eyes betray his anger. “Going so soon, my dear Noct?”

“Yeah. This just isn’t doing it for me.” He sighs, putting his whole body into it, and throws on his most pitiful pout; the one that makes his bottom lip look _kissable_ according to Prompto. “I guess I wanted to see if I was still in love with you. Looks like I'm not.”

“Darling,” Ardyn says, “are you forgetting we’re soulmates?”

“Of course not. That’s the whole reason I’ve got Hanahaki. But that doesn’t mean I love you.” He pushes himself back from the table. Ardyn shifts slightly, maybe preparing to warp across the room and grab his wheelchair. Noct pivots and keeps rolling towards the door. “After you left me, I got back together with my retainers. They’re much sweeter to me. I’m going to go hang with them now, if you don’t mind.”

“We haven’t even had dessert yet,” Ardyn says through gritted teeth.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll get plenty of _dessert_ back at our room.”

The table jerks when Ardyn stands. A glass of water pitches over. Neither of them move to grab it. “Noctis, sweetheart, don’t you think you’re being a bit hasty?”

“Nah.” Noct reaches the door. He rests his hand on the handle. His heart is starting to beat just a bit faster. “Maybe you just don’t have the ability to feel genuine love anymore. Or ever. _Did_ you love her?”

The room darkens again, like it had weeks ago at the Citadel. Noct glances around at the flickering lights, uninterested.

“And who might you be talking about…?” Ardyn hisses.

“Aera Mirus Fleuret.”

All the lights in the room cut out. In the darkness, Noct can see Ardyn’s eyes glowing, bright yellow tinged with orange. They look like tiny suns.

“Get out.”

Noct goes.

-=*=-

He doesn’t tell the others what happened. Instead he lies down on the bed and mentally berates himself for having said anything at all.

Isn’t pissing Ardyn off the _last_ thing he should be doing right now? Or is it a good thing that he got an emotional reaction out of it, regardless of how negative it was? Should he have even bothered to come here at all?

Prompto tries to keep his spirits up by roping him into a game of King’s Knight, but Noct loses interest after the first raid. All he wants to do is sleep. The coughing fits have slowed down to a trickle, and he can’t feel the tips of his fingers and toes. It’s the oxygen deprivation, he knows that, and while he really should say something he can’t find it within himself to do so. Eventually he just asks the guys to give him some space.

They send a message to Ravus and ask for a tour of the facilities. He must be feeling pity for Noct, because although he makes a show about being inconvenienced, he takes Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis with him anyway.

Noct whips out his phone and immediately calls his dad.

“I don’t think I’m gonna make it,” is what he leads with.

His dad doesn’t say anything for a long time. _“I was afraid of this.”_

“I know. I’m sorry.”

_“You don’t have to be sorry. Can I tell you something?”_

Noct sniffles. “Anything.”

_“When you were five, and the Crystal chose you, I received a vision from Bahamut. It was all very vague, but one thing I saw with perfect clarity was a royal coffin being lowered into a tomb.”_

Noct draws circles on the bedspread. A little flower bloom slowly makes its way into his mouth. He breathes around it.

_“I always knew one day I would lose you. As much as I wanted to fight it, the prophecies of the gods cannot be altered.”_ There’s a noise on the other line. It’s something so foreign coming from his dad that Noct doesn’t immediately recognize it as a sob. _“I know I haven’t done right by you. I should have been around more when you were younger. I shouldn’t have tried to keep you from growing up. I was so desperate not to lose you that I ended up pushing you away.”_

“It’s alright. I did my fair share of pushing.” The flower curls against his tongue. Noct reaches in and plucks it. It’s dripping blood, but that’s such a normal sight these days Noct doesn’t even react to it. “I get it.”

_“Your understanding doesn’t excuse my actions. I’m so, so sorry, son.”_

“Hey, I said it’s alright. I _forgive_ you. It’s fine.” There’s a knock at the door. Noct ignores it. “Can I ask a favor?”

_“Anything.”_

“I want Ignis to replace me as the prince. He’d do a good job of it. The Crystal won’t accept him, but who cares. The gods suck.”

_“I agree. I’ll start preparing the documents now. If we wait too long, the Council will begin working on their own agendas.”_

“Thank you.” The knocking grows more insistent. Noct sighs. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you again in the afterlife.”

His dad sobs again. _“I love you.”_

“Love you, too.”

He stumbles over to the door. It’s easier to walk now, for some reason. Like his body is giving all it’s got before it collapses on him. Outside are two soldiers.

“The Imperial Chancellor wants to see you,” one of them says.

“Well, I don’t want to see him,” Noct mumbles.

“We have orders to bring you to him.”

Noct scrounges up what he can of his magic to produce a threatening-looking but ultimately harmless flame around his feet. The soldiers jump back as the glow of the fire reflects off their armor. “If he wants to see me, he can come here himself.” He slams the door.

Their boots shuffle away. Noct sits back down on the bed, exhausted. He wants to go to sleep already. He knows it’ll upset the guys, and he still hasn’t written to Luna, but it’ll be fine. They’ll move on eventually. And hey, his dad isn’t too far from the grave himself. They’ll be reunited soon.

Maybe he can even meet his mother. The thought has a teary smile blossoming on his face. He’s still stuck in that expression when the door opens five minutes later and Ardyn walks in.

He carefully shuts the door behind him and looks around the room. “I thought you said you were going to spend some _quality time_ with your retainers.”

“I sent them away. Wanted to be alone when I died,” Noct says softly.

Ardyn’s expression can only be described as _pained._

Noct snorts. “What’s wrong? Didn’t you want me to die?”

“You are the stupidest, most vile thing to have ever lived,” Ardyn hisses. The scourge bubbles up in his tear ducts and slides down his face. He marches up to the bed and kneels next to Noct. “Where did you learn her name?”

“Somnus couldn’t erase everything,” Noct says. “That’s what happened, right? He couldn’t have people knowing he stole the throne from you, so he tried to erase the two of you from history.”

Ardyn doesn’t flinch away as Noct brushes a hand against the ichor. It stains their soul thread black. “She was meant to be my queen. Bonded together first by the gods, and second by a worldly marriage.”

“So you got both her and me as soulmates, huh? Lucky guy.” He keeps scooping up the scourge in his fingers. The last time he’d touched the stuff, he’d been eight and surrounded by fire and blood. It’s not so scary, now. Not when Ardyn looks so hopelessly lost. “What is it you’re trying to accomplish, exactly? You couldn’t have her, so you don’t want me, either?”

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to her. I could never love you like I loved her.”

“No shit, you couldn’t. Love doesn’t work like that. It’s always different. Always complicated and painful,” Noct says, resting his forehead against Ardyn’s. “Are you in pain, Immortal Accursed?”

“I am always in pain,” Ardyn spits.

“Huh. That sounds like it sucks.” Noct’s vision is getting weaker. Another flower blooms in his mouth. He slumps over against Ardyn, unable to sit up under his own strength anymore.

“...they gave you the same face.”

“Hmm?” It’s getting harder to focus, but Noct thinks he sees the ichor fall down Ardyn’s face a bit faster than before. Almost like he’s really crying. “As Somnus?”

“Yes. The gods have never been kind to me, but this is a new depth of cruelty.”

“You know,” Noct says, closing his eyes. He thinks his heart is slowing down; it definitely sounds slower as it thuds in his ears. “I think you should save me. It could be fun.”

“...fun.”

“Yeah. As much as you like being miserable, it’d be more pleasant to not let me die. If you do, you won’t feel any better than before. At least, if you…” He gasps. “If you save me, then… then something might change. Who knows? It might turn out okay.”

Ardyn’s blackened silhouette is massive and intimidating. “You...”

“Sorry. That sounded so lame. You deserve a better soulmate than me.” He thinks he’s getting colder. He curls up against Ardyn; he's so, so warm. “Seriously, could a healer-king really watch someone die of illness and not do anything about it? I love you, you know.”

He barely feels Ardyn shifting him in his arms, sitting him up. He doesn’t feel the kiss pressed to his forehead. He definitely doesn’t hear what Ardyn whispers to him.

The moon’s tears, apparently, _do._

Noct shocks awake as fiery pain erupts in his chest. He chokes on the rain of flowers and leaves suddenly coming up, and coughs onto the floor while Ardyn smooths hands over his back. Leaves slice at his tongue and gums as they go, and after that’s done the stems come up too and with them, the roots. They’re coated in blood and the fleshy pink of his lungs, stringy spiders’ legs that twist and curl around each other. By the time it’s over, Noct is sure he’s going to die anyway from the pain and internal damage. Then Ardyn is massaging his throat. It opens up reflexively.

Immediately there’s relief. A sweet sap is coating the inside of his mouth and throat, sliding into the cuts and healing them up. It’s distressing to feel the same syrupy substance down in his lungs, but instead of forcing it up, his body accepts it. It softens the aches. When Noct experimentally coughs, no blood comes up for the first time in weeks.

“There, there. The plant leaves behind the sap so it doesn’t kill its victim while it evicts itself. Quite a remarkable adaptation, no?” Ardyn coos.

Noct falls back into Ardyn’s lap on the bed, exhausted.

“My dear, you have me at a loss!” Ardyn continues, throwing his hands up. “Indeed, it would be quite awful of me to let a patient die when I had the means to save them. Well played.”

Tears streak down Noct’s face. He sniffles. “You do love me, then…?”

“Were you unsure? If so, that’s quite a gamble you played,” Ardyn says. He wraps his arms around Noct’s waist. His hum rumbles through Noct’s entire body. “To be honest, my dearest Noct, no, I don’t think I do. But you are _precisely_ my type. So sweet and stupid.”

“If you didn’t love me, it wouldn’t have worked,” Noct protests.

“Keep telling yourself that, dear heart.”

It’s only now that he’s not dying anymore that he hears the banging on the door. There’s a shout, a bang, and then Gladio is breaking the door down, stumbling into the room with his greatsword drawn. Ignis, Prompto, and Ravus follow him in. They all pause and stare when they see the pile of plant bits on the ground and Noct relaxing happily in Ardyn’s arms. He gives them a shaky thumbs up.

“Whoo! Noct’s not dying!” Prompto shouts. He barrels into Noct, who laughs and accepts the hug. Ardyn clearly resents suddenly having to share his lap with someone who isn’t Noct, but he sighs and submits to his fate when Prompto refuses to move. Gladio and Ignis join them, and Ardyn is treated to the rare experience of having a chocobro group hug taking place on top of his person.

Noct, for his part, feels happier than he has in _ages._ For once in his life, everything is going _right._

Ravus groans in disgust as he watches. “You’re all idiots.”

Before he can turn to leave, Noct summons the notebook from the Armiger, scribbles a message into it, and shoves it at him.

“Umbra deserves a break,” he says.

“You’re insufferable,” Ravus replies. He takes the notebook with him anyway.

-=*=-

“Dad, I’m not dying!”

_“What? How -”_

“Turns out Ardyn does like me! The doctors said the Hanahaki is all cleared up. I’m good now. We’re already on our way back to Lucis.”

_“That’s… my gods, Noct, that’s wonderful. Simply wonderful. I can’t believe…”_

“I know, right? Anyway, we were gonna head straight home, but Ardyn is suggesting we take a vacation in Galdin Quay, so -”

_“Noct, you are going to come home immediately so I can see for myself that you are okay. And so I can yell at the Chancellor for putting your life in danger.”_

“Pfft, okay, Dad.”

_“And you are going to move back into the Citadel for the time being.”_

“What? Dad, come on -”

_“It will take time to find a suitable manor for the two of you to live in. Your apartment is essentially a bachelor pad. It’s not suitable for married life.”_

“Oh. _Oh._ Okay.”

_“And you are not to be alone with the Chancellor again for, say, six months.”_

“Dad!”

_“Alright, four months.”_

_“_ No.”

_“Two months?”_

“...fine, that’s fair. I’ll see you when I get home.”

_“See you then, son.”_

-=*=-

Time moves slowly. It takes Noct about a month to fully recover his strength, a year for Ardyn to warm up to the idea of marriage, and four months more for the peace treaty to be renegotiated and reinstated. They don’t see each other often, with Ardyn busy running Niflheim and Noct preparing to take the throne. He can’t say he’s completely fine with the way thing turned out; he’s sure his dad will never like Ardyn given the whole attempted murder thing, and Luna is still trying to figure out how exactly Noct can fulfill his destiny without killing his fiancé.

She reports, nearly three months before their wedding, that incidents of the Starscourge are getting less common. At this rate, there shouldn’t be any new cases in roughly five years.

Noct tries to talk to the Crystal to ask Bahamut what the hell is going on, but he’s notably silent. Whenever they visit Fenestala Manor, though, Gentiana smiles like she’s holding a secret between her lips. Noct eventually decides to simply accept it and move on. He doesn’t have time to worry about the gods’ antics when he has a wedding to plan.

Ardyn is very insistent about the details, and Noct is happy to let him make the decisions regarding the venue and decor. They’re going to have lots of flowers, an irony Noct can’t help but laugh at, and small crystals imbued with fire magic as the lighting. The color scheme is black and gold, though Ardyn insists on red accents to represent his role as Niflheim’s ruler. Noct knows how much the empire means to him - it’s a replica of the kingdom he would have built had he the chance two thousand years ago. Besides that, the royal wedding is as much for the public as it is for them. They have to represent both nations, even if the wedding is taking place in Insomnia.

Noct usually hates public events, but this is one he revels in. Luna attends as the presiding priestess, finally permitted (as per the new treaty’s terms, while Noct was very insistent about) to travel outside of her Oracle duties. Ravus declines an invitation. Verstael shows up - thank the gods Ardyn manages to convince him to leave his son alone, lest he ruin the proceedings - and Noct finally meets Aranea Highwind. She has a little girl in tow, with a very familiar face that his dad seems to recognize. She speaks with all the politeness of a princess and refers to Ardyn as her _uncle._

“That’s the missing granddaughter, isn’t it,” Noct whispers to Ardyn after they leave.

“Very astute of you, darling,” Ardyn says. “I asked Aranea to take her in after her beloved grandfather passed away from - I believe they reported it simply as _natural causes._ Poor dear. She was so young, I wonder if she even remembers.”

“...so you murdered the emperor and took the throne from its rightful heir?”

“She was a child. Had she ruled, the nobles would have torn her _and_ each other apart trying to control her. It was for the best.”

“Yeah, right,” Noct snorts. “You just wanted a crown. No wonder Ravus hates your guts.”

“Truly? I’m honored to be hated by such a man.”

The party lasts all night. The day after, Noct wakes up next to Ardyn in the early morning. He sneaks out of bed quietly to let his husband sleep, and steps out on their balcony to look out at the sky. The Wall is gone, finally, let down in accordance with the new treaty’s agreements. The Glaive will be retired next month with all members receiving a lifelong pension from the government. Nyx has already spoken of his plans to return to Galahd and help with the rebuilding. Noct will have to visit him there one day; he’ll be on honeymoon for the next few weeks, so he won’t be home to see him off.

Arms circle around his waist. Noct sighs and leans back into Ardyn’s warmth.

“The morning sky always reminds me of you,” he says.

“I don’t see why you need to be reminded of me when I’m right here, by your side,” Ardyn replies.

“Good point.” Noct glances up at the last stars twinkling in the sky, little dots of blue and red quickly being swallowed up by the pinks and oranges of dawn. “Wanna have a funeral?”

Ardyn laughs. “For who, exactly? My dear father-in-law hasn’t kicked the bucket yet, has he?”

Noct jabs him in the stomach with his elbow. “Shut up. I mean for you. You were murdered and all that. You deserve a nice, flashy funeral.”

“I believe it would be rather hard to have a public mourning ceremony when I am clearly still alive.” Ardyn hums. He squeezes Noct around the middle and pulls him closer. He’s always so careful about not letting Noct get cold, or hurt, or even upset. Noct wonders if he feels guilty. If he’ll always feel guilty.

“It could be a small one,” Noct offers. “We can have a tomb built, and a coffin with a statue buried. Just something so people in the future know the whole truth about who you are.”

“I’ll likely be around to tell them,” Ardyn murmurs.

Noct jabs him again. Ardyn gets moody, sometimes, about his immortality. Noct is still very mortal, and one day they’ll presumably be separated.

Noct has more faith in fate than that. “I don’t think so. I think you’ll follow me wherever I go.”

Ardyn kisses the top of his head. “I will certainly try.”

They stay like that, watching the dawn fade to day. Inside their new bedroom, a pressed flower rests inside a history book. A little painting of a long lost king sits next to it on the shelf.

_Never again,_ Noct thinks as he tugs on his soul thread. They’ll never be parted again, not by death or anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *busts in thru ur window and slaps u in the face with this chapter* this is so late i'm so sorry! ahhhHHHHH  
> my college is doing online classes right now and i think my brain has been completely fried. this is so below the level of what i wanted to do for this fic, but i'm afraid if i don't post this now it'll take me a month to finish it. so here it is.  
> i hope you enjoyed reading florescence as much as i enjoyed writing it!!


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